


Digging upwards

by Allieverwas



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Closeted Isak Valtersen, Coming Out, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, M/M, Moving Out, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Short Chris/Isak interlude, Sleepy Isak, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:28:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allieverwas/pseuds/Allieverwas
Summary: He could smell him before he could see him. Shampoo and tobacco and hair products. Old Spice deodorant. Did guys his age even wear that? A faint scent of shaving foam and weed. Comforting scents. Attractive boy scents, yet everything he was trying to avoid at the moment.Slight AU. This version of Isak's story starts after the break in season 2, a few days after Isak moves into Eskild's basement. Even never left Elvebakken.





	1. Wednesday. 27. April 2016. 07:50

**Author's Note:**

> First few chapters are ready for posting. I have written an outline of the story. The reason why I still don't know how many chapters this will contain, is that I will chop each real chapter into bits, for ease of posting relatively often.

The morning light through the dirty mesh and cobweb-covered windows was showing a pale outine of the room. The shelves. The stack of frying pans, scrubbed clean of the the teflon they had once been covered in. Skis that looked like they had never been used. The boxes that lined the walls were filled with memories of someone elses life. But it was all his. This life, this place and this moment belonged to him. Right now, this was his home. He was hit by a pang of guilt when he realised how much comfort that thought actually gave him. Right now, he only had himself to care about.

Fourth morning of his new life. It was already starting to feel normal. Grabbing his toothbrush and crawling out of the soft comfort of the sleeping bag, and into his clothes. He had worn the same pair of jeans for a week now, and they had started giving off a damp smell. The jeans Eskild had lent him were a bit long, the red hoodie a bit new, the teeshirt a tad too big. In the end he pulled on his own black jeans. They might smell, but at least they made him feel like he was still himself. His friends smoked too much. Nobody would notice.

Sneaking into the laundry room was easy. Peeing in the sink. Brushing his teeth. Trying to look like he wasn’t trespassing. It was easy. All this was easy. Compared to what he was used to, this life was a simple one. In here, he relaxed. And outside, he would never be busted. He had years of training. Was a master of controlling his expression. He always looked like he was in his right element. Walked fast. Eyes on the ground. He belonged here.

And as he turned the corner into Hausmannsgate he had already closed himself off. He felt his expression harden as he walked into the grocery store to stack up. One carton of orange juice. A bottle of coke that he would refill with water later. Easy, this was easy. Nobody would notice. Ten wasa sandwiches with cream cheese and chives. Two apples. That should get him through the day.

His timing was awful. The store was filled to the brim with students from Elvebakken. People who actually did belong. Who were discussing school stuff. Art assignments. The parties they had been to last weekend. Matters that all sounded trivial to him now. He closed his eyes. Tried to close his ears. Yet he was unable to block them out. Tried to make a zone that only belonged to him, like he would do on the tram. But this wasn’t the tram. He was standing in line in a cramped shop, and the guy in front of him was standing so close. Leaning slightly over the counter. All his weight resting on one of his long legs.

Isak closed his eyes to prevent himself from staring. This was neither the time nor place to look at boys. Not even tall, slim boys in tight jeans. But the body in front of him moved, straightened out. Came closer.

He could smell him before he could see him. Shampoo and tobacco and hair products. Old Spice deodorant. Did guys his age even wear that? A faint scent of shaving foam and weed. Comforting scents. Attractive boy scents, yet everything he was trying to avoid at the moment.

“One skruf extra stark and a pack of luckies.” His voice was deep. A little hoarse. And as he spoke, he took a step back, closing the distance between them.

One part of him could stand there forever, eyes closed, just smelling the rough fabric of the denim jacket in front of him. Another part of him knew he was late, that school started in only half an hour, that he would be running into gym class after the other students had all been sorted into teams. A third, more theacherous part of him was starting to get annoyed with how the guy was blatantly flirting with the girl behind the counter. So what if she had tied her hijab sligtly differently today. Isak couldn’t care less.

“Can you please hurry up a bit?” he muttered. And as he looked up, the guy had turned around to look at him. His eyes so intense that it was hard to look away. Then, his eyes darted towards the huge pile of wasa sandwiches on the conveyor belt, before lifting his eyebrows in a manner that Isak couldn’t interpret. And without speaking, he turned around again, paid, put the box of snus into the back pockets of his jeans and as he walked out of the store he opened the pack of cigarettes with his teeth.

Outside, cigarette smoke filled the crisp spring air, and before Isak could react, something was thrown at him. He caught the pack of luckies in mid air, thank god for his fast reflexes, and extended his eyes to the guy who had thrown it, the guy from the store. Isak hadn’t really been able to look at him before, who was now biting his slightly chapped lips in a way that would have made other people look nervous, but which only made this guy look even more self assured.

“Care to keep me company?” he invited, while once again lifting his eyebrows.  
“Nah, I don’t smoke….” And as he said it, he cursed himself for declining. An attractive stranger trying to strike up a conversation was not an everyday matter. And the first thing he’d done was making himself look like a complete nerd.  
“I mean. I don’t smoke.. cigarettes.”  
“What, you’re Dracula now?” The other guy smiled down at him, but this only made Isak feel more flustered.  
“What? Dracula? No, I just mean that. Eh...”  
“Nice jacket, by the way” said the stranger as he turned around and crossed the street, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke. Isak just stood there, watching as the tall, lanky figure dissapeared into Elvebakken. As he knew he would. He looked like that type of guy. Wannabe creative-kind of guy. Wannabe media and communication-type of guy. Fancy coffee-kind of guy. Someone who belonged to a world that was so far from the world Isak lived in right now. Someone who smelled nice. Who probably had a shower this morning. Unlike Isak. Who was late for school and had to run if he wanted to get to Nissen in time to keep it real.


	2. Wednesday. 27. April 2016. 11:45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transportation stretch. But i swear that it will be relevant eventually.  
> We meet Jonas and Magnus for the first time.  
> Chris and Isak are planning the Yakuza fight.  
> The Even thing is still a tiny seed. But it will grow to a seedling soon, I promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason why I want to write this story, is that Isak lived in that basement for a whole month, which is quite a while. First time we know for sure that he moved in, is when he’s wearing Eskild’s red hoodie, asking Chris to call him in the schoolyard on the 27th of April. Which is where this story starts. Good thing we don’t see Isak much during season two, or it would be less fun to imagine what he was going through.

“Problem is, she wants me go go dancing. Seriously. Me. Dancing.”  
Normally, Jonas’ constant rambling about Isabel, his new girlfriend, annoyed Isak. This time it offerered a much needed break from jeans-clad boys in grocery stores, from basements, mothers and lies.

“She claims to be interested in skateboarding, though, but every time I ask her to join me at the bowl, she’s already made plans with her friends”  
Magnus was nodding, following every word. Anyone who actually cared to listen to Jonas ranting would understand that to Jonas, Isabel, like every girl he had hooked up since christmas, faded in comparison with Eva. But Magnus seemed oddly impressed. With Jonas. With Isabel. With the concept of actually having a girlfriend.  
“Sometimes I miss just watching tv in bed. Eva was chill, you know. But Isabel… it’s like she’s always asking me to do... stuff.”

“Anyway, Isak. Ingrid doesn’t want me to come over anymore. Not too surprising I guess, because of Isabel and all.”  
“Mhm. Isabel is pretty” Isak mumbled. “She jealous?”  
“Must be. Anyway. I've been cut off from her brother. So. Me and Mahdi, he’s in my French class, we're trying to find a new dealer. If we just buy ten grams at once, we don’t have to think about buying for months. You in?”  
Isak was not in. Isak only had the money left over from his confirmation, and right now, he needed every shilling for his new life.

“Ten grams? That's a lot.”  
“Eh, yeah. Come on, man. Joooin uuus” Jonas’ expression and silly hand gestures made Isak burst into laughter, coffee spluttering over the lunch table. But although the mood was light, he was not about to spend money on weed right now.

“No. Seriously, that’s like really Illegal” What if you’re caught? The police will think you are dealing.”  
“But they won’t be caught, will they?” said Magnus. The risk is when you buy it. And this way we will just be doing one big transaction rather than a hundred small ones. Eh. They. We. I mean. I’m in, right?”  
“Ten small ones”, Jonas corrected him. “But I agree. It’s easier”  
And Magnus went on to lecturing Isak about risk taking. Fortune cookie clichés. Why living on the edge was worth it. How actually trying to take risks would make Isak feel more alive. How different this conversation would be if Magnus only knew. Isak didn’t need to take any fake risks right now. He had already been risking everything. Twice. In one week.

“Uh. Talking of weed” said Isak, eager to leave behind the topic of his own dwindling finances, lacking risk-taking abilities and especially the fact that Jonas was making new friends just because Isak was too broke to chip in on the weed.  
“Someone offered me a smoke today, and when I said that I don’t smoke cigarettes, he asked if I was trying to be Dracula or something. I don’t get it”  
Magnus laughed at him.  
“Dracula? The movie? Old Classic? 1930’s? 'I never drink... wine' Isak. Do you live under a rock?”  
“No, he lives in a moldy cave, like Gollum.” Jonas’ attempt at referring to a movie he actually had seen wasn’t lost on him, but Isak still froze. The comparison struck a little too close to home, to his actual new home.

But at least Jonas tried. Which would indeed be the difference between him and the sweet-smelling guy from Elvebakken, whose movie references had gone straight over Isaks head.

Although Jonas didn’t have much time for him these days. Although the only things on his mind seemed to be weed and Isabel, he least _tried_ to avoid references that went over Isak’s head. Tried to make him feel like he was still part of the group.

Which was what made him a good friend. Isak knew for a fact that if he'd only asked, he would have been sleeping on Jonas’ bedroom floor these days. Yes, it probably would have involved Jonas’ mother calling the welfare authorities, but he knew for a fact that they would care. He knew for a fact that Jonas would drop everything he was doing in a heartbeat if Isak needed him. He had done it before. And it had been too much. Too much pity. He’d had enough pity from Jonas to last a lifetime.

As Magnus finally got up to leave, Jonas lowered his voice.  
“Have you talked to Chris yet, Isak?”

***

Of course he hadn’t. Isak and Chris hadn’t spoken since last Friday. Which is why Isak ended up leaving the boys by the table in order to to spend the last half of his lunch break in the schoolyard, trying to look inconspicuous while signalling Chris to call him later.

It felt weird. Felt like he was inviting him for a date or something. Chris wasn’t the type of guy Isak normally spent time with. Last year, he had been their enemy. Or at least the enemy of Jonas. He had been the guy who kissed Eva. The guy Jonas fought with. But he had also been the guy they always talked about. The guy whose presence never failed to make Jonas tense and uncomfortable. And as a result, Chris had become the only guy Isak always knew where was. The guy he traced with his eyes as he crossed the schoolyard.

But last friday, Chris had been the guy who took Isak for a drive, while they shared their fellow hatred towards the Yakuza guys. There had been a plan to it, but it had still felt weird. The two of them alone in the car, driving slowly through the woods outside the city. Away from their friends.

They had never really talked before, not without alcohol to lower their defences. But for some reason, it had worked out. Maybe it had been because Chris had kept his eyes on the road, that the lack of eye contact helped the conversation flow.

At first, the conversation had been focused on their need for revenge and their willingness to fight. The Yakuza had beaten up their best friends. Of course they saw red. But soon the conversation had moved away from the yakuza and on to their friends. The friends who didn’t seem to have time for them anymore because of their new girlfriends and their interesting lives and all the plans that for some reason didn’t include Isak and Chris. He hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected this feeling of shared pain. Hadn’t expected Chris’ situation to feel so familiar.

Not that he had felt sorry for him. Not really. Neither of them had expressed direct sympathy. But how they felt had been clear as day. They both had a best friend that they cared about and respected. They both felt like they had been reduced to said friend’s sidekick. They both felt like they had become what they feared that they were in the eyes of others. Insignificant. Easy to forget. Standing in their friend's shadow.

None of them ever said they were jealous. The word just hung there, unspoken in the thick air between them in the car.


	3. Wednesday. 27. April 2016. 19:31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Eskild eat pancakes and watch Dracula, and talk about all the stuff that Isak really doesn't want to talk about.  
> A sort of first semi-coming out.  
> A bit about Isak's family.  
> A bit about his first kiss with a guy.
> 
> Ok. I'm really bad at summaries. It's not that long, just read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not be a fic of love rivalry and jealousy. Don't expect that.  
> Even will reappear in the flesh in the next chapter. I take my time. But that's how I like it.

The evening was spent curled up in Eskild's sofa. At first, they didn’t speak at all. Isak was too afraid of all the questions that might find their way into the conversation, that he feared that he wouldn’t be able to dodge. About his family, about the gay bar he had ended up in last Saturday. About his plans for the near future, which for some reason scared him most of all. But no questions ever came. Eskild was chill. Made small-talk. Made pancakes for dinner.

“How did you know pancakes are my favorite?”  
Pancakes always reminded him of his father. He used to make them for dinner during the summer holidays, and the whole family would eat them on the veranda. But Isak didn’t want to share that story. Those happy moments were a thing of the past, and there was no way he was going to let his father have any part in the present, or in this conversation for that sake.

“Isn’t pancake everyone’s ultimate comfort food?” Eskild smiled at him.  
“Hm. Maybe”  
“Also, it’s one of the few things I know how to make. Come up for frozen pizza or fish gratin tomorrow if you want. That’s my full repertoire.”  
Isak nodded in approval, his mouth still full of sugar and pancakes. He really did like the sound of his teeth biting through the soft pancakes and finally hitting the sugary center.  
“I have never in my life seen anyone use as much sugar as you do”, Eskild laughed.  
Isak looked down at his pancake, covered in a full tablespoon of sugar, and over to Eskild’s plate, where the pancake was adorned with nothing but a narrow stripe of strawberry jam.  
“I happen to like sweet stuff”  
Eskild’s raspberry fun light wasn’t quite as good as the blackcurrant squash he had grown up with, but it was probably better for him.

And as they moved onto the sofa, the conversation stayed almost artificially light. Eskild asked Isak to chose which movie to watch while rummaging through his bedroom, before reappearing with a bunch of clothes in his hands. Some jeans. Socks. A couple of tee shirts, one of which were sporting a big portrait of Jesus Christ. Another pang of guilt. His mother this time.

“You can have these. Actually, they are too small for me. My ex left them.”  
“What? You want me to go dressed as your ex? Really?” Isak tried to make a joke. Tried to chase the uncomfortable feeling.  
“Actually, I’ve just met someone else. It’s not as if these mean anything to me anymore. Also, your smell is starting to mature. A bit like... Stilton, i guess... Though much less refined.”  
Isak smiled. Both him and Eskild knew that having a runaway sixteen year old in the basement wasn’t an everyday matter, but the fact that Eskild tried to pretend that it was was a relief. He didn’t follow the topic of Eskild’s new boyfriend, though. That conversation could easily end up in a place he didn’t want to go.

“Do you have the underwear you need? I happen to have some new boxers and socks that should be your size. If you need some?”  
Of course he had been shopping for him. Of course he would never admit it.  
“Yeah, That would be nice”  
“Also. This. Because seriously. Stilton.” He threw a red Old Spice deodorant at him. The guy from the shop this morning had been gone from Isak’s mind for hours, but all of a sudden he was there. His nose remembered him more clearly than his mind did. Old spice and tobacco and shaving foam and hair products.

“Eh. Thanks. Rather smell like an old man than like a bum, I guess.”  
“Old Man? Have you seen that old spice ad from last year? I seriously bought ten of these after seeing that ad.” Of course Isak had no recollection of any deodorant ad. And of course Eskild showed it to him. And it felt strange. It was the first time in his life that anyone had ever showed him a video of a half naked man with the expectation that he would find him attractive.  
“Do I look very… gay to you?” Isak asked. Still unable to make that word sound like a natural part of a sentence. He definitely hadn’t planned for the question to sound like an accusation, but it did.  
Eskild sighed.  
“No Isak. Not more than any of the other guys in that bar last Saturday.”

And once more, to Isak’s surprise, Eskild left it at that. Not denying what he obviously knew. Not pushing it further. Had it been anyone else, Isak might have felt the need to try and convince him that he had given him the wrong impression. But truth to be told, maybe it was all right for Eskild to know. As long as he kept it to himself.

“Do you have that old Dracula movie?” Isak said, mainly to steer the conversation away from the gay stuff, and onto something else. Also, if he ever bumped into the guy with the cigarettes again, it wouldn’t hurt to have actually seen the movie. Streaming conditions in the basement weren’t exactly stellar.  
“Ah. Dracula, the count of subtext” Eskild smiled while trying to find the movie.  
“Subtext?”  
“Yeah. You’ll see.”

Normally, he found old movies boring, but horror movies were his one exception. And this one wasn’t bad. He felt himself almost relaxing on Eskild’s couch. Working his way through at least ten pancakes, a lot of Fun Light and eventually a cup of Yogi Tea that Eskild claimed was superior to regular tea.

Maybe he hadn’t been able to see the subtext, a word he hadn’t even known the meaning of before Eskild explained it to him, if it hadn’t been for Eskild running commentary of the film. Initially, he had wondered why Eskild put so much weight on this subtext-thing.  
“It sort of feels like you just… find queer stuff. That isn’t really there.” Isak had said. But Eskild had countered the argument at once.  
“It’s there, Isak. It has always been there. Sometimes dressed up as evil, like here. Sometimes just dressed up as awesome. You develop an eye for these things.” And after a while, Isak really did see it. Did feel the tension. Some times he only noticed after Eskild pointed it out. On other occasions, it was clear as day, and he realised he was chuckling to himself, while Eskild was looking approvingly at him.

But as the death groans of Dracula was fading, Eskild’s expression had changed. He was serious now, and Isak braced himself for the questions that were bound to come.  
“Have you called your parents yet?”  
“Yeah.”  
Isak let the silence fill the room.  
“And? Were they worried?”  
“Not really.”  
“Isak. Did you really call them? You haven’t been home since Saturday night?”  
“Friday, actually”  
“Friday, then. But what did they say?”

“Ok. Here’s the deal. I told my mother that I am staying with dad for a while. They don’t speak much. I’ve been sending messages to both, actually. They aren’t worried at all.”  
“Ok? And how long do you think that will work out for you?”  
“For as long as I need it to, I guess?”

“Anyway. When they figure it out, I’ll go home. I promise.” The word home felt almost artificial. He didn’t want to go back there. Didn’t want to call it home. But he could also tell that Eskild was not convinced.

“Ehm. Is… there a reason why you don’t want to go home?”  
What story to tell him? His mother’s condition probably wouldn’t convince him. That might even make him call the welfare authorities, and if there was one thing Isak was not prepared for, it was being sent into foster care. Not now. He was too old. The only story that would work, was the one that still felt too personal to tell.  
“Isak. Did they do something to you?” Eskild looked at him intently now. Expecting an answer. And Isak closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Forced the words out. One by one.

“My mother is. Crazy religious. These days. You know that Christian local radio station?” Eskild nodded. “The one with all the sulfur and hell-talk. It’s always on. In the background. When we eat. The first thing she puts on in the morning” He could tell by Eskild’s facial expression that this had been the right place to start.

As he pulled out his mobile phone, he felt himself crossing a threshold, betraying her, sharing secrets that he had promised himself to keep. But he kept going. Flipped through his mothers messages until he found a particularly bad streak.

“See these bible quotes? You can see that she knows them by heart, right? Like.. how she adds extra doom and gloom?”  
“And are you.. Religious yourself, Isak?”  
Eskild used his name too much. As if this conversation had transformed him into a social worker. As if Isak was a patient. He didn’t like that feeling.  
“Nah. Not really. But it’s like it’s always there, if you know what I mean. It has always been there. It’s like an automatic thing, like brushing my teeth before going to bed, or washing my hands when I pee”

“After you pee” The comment made Isak laugh, a moment of reprieve from the hardest conversation he had had in a long time.  
“Yeah. After I pee. But it’s kind of hard. Always being reminded of the sins I should steer away from.”  
Eskild just nodded at this, but the determination in his eyes had shifted, and Isak knew he would be able to stay, at least for a while.

“On Friday. I kissed. Someone. And I just. Couldn’t...go home.”  
He stopped there. Unable to find the right words. Hoping that Eskild’s imagination would complete the story. He could have said that he was afraid that Chris would tell his friends. That he felt like everyone could tell what he had done, just by looking at him. That he had tried to contact him but still hadn’t received an answer. That he still didn’t regret it at all. But the word flow had stopped.

And he convinced Eskild that he didn’t need to sleep on the couch. That he actually liked the privacy of the basement. That he’d much prefer that Noora didn’t know about their arrangement.

As Isak walked down into the basement, his thoughts were returning to the moment last Friday when Chris had stopped the car outside Isaks mother’s house. Back to the end of the conversation about William and Jonas and how they seemed to take Chris and Isak for granted.

“Maybe you and I should team up. See how they like that”  
Isak had just unfastened his seat-belt when he heard Chris’ final words. Felt himself go cold with something mid between fear and determination.

“Yeah. That would show them.” He had noticed how steady his own voice had sounded, and how Chris’ eyes had been locked into his. Five seconds of silence. Ten. Fifteen. Waiting to see if Chris would laugh it off. But no laughter came. Then, in a sudden act of bravery, Isak had leant over and kissed him. Slowly. A bit of tongue. Counting to three. Noticing that Chris actually did kiss him back. Before he pulled away and left the car without looking back.

That had been the night Isak realized that he couldn’t go home. He had been standing, keys in hand, looking at the old door sign. “Terje and Marianne Valtersen. Isak and Lea.” He always read their names before unlocking the door. Even on a normal day he would prepare himself before going in, would take that deep breath. Which was supposed to, but always failed to prepare himself for what was waiting inside.

He had learned to dread the moment when he crossed the threshold. He had wanted to fix the sign. Correction fluid. Since November, it should have read “Marianne Valtersen and Isak” But it didn’t. It still told the story of a happy family, of a father that still had it in him to care, of a mother who still managed keep at least some of it all together, and of a son that still hadn’t had the opportunity to disappoint her.

But at this point, all of this had changed. So Isak had turned around, walked away, phone in hand, scoured through his facebook for an invitation to a party he could crash. Messaged his mother that he would sleep at Jonas’.

While the door sign kept the lie alive.


	4. Friday. 29. April 2016. 08:10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak is late for school, and bumps into Even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a rom com twist-this. Don't judge me too harshly. :/

Unknown number

Chris: That call-me sign is the tackiest thing I have ever seen.  
Isak: Sorry. Couldn’t just walk up to you, could I?  
Isak: People would suspect something was up  
Chris: Isak. How would anyone suspect that we’re setting up a yakuza trap?  
Isak: You’re right I guess.  
Chris: You added me on insta?  
Isak: Yeah  
Isak: Didn’t have your number.  
Chris: This is it. Will you stop stalking me now?  
Isak: ?  
Chris ;)  
Isak: Friday. Which plan will we go with?  
Chris: The girlfriends of two of the Yakuza guys will come and roll with us.  
Chris: Your job is to warn them around eight, and help them find us.  
Chris: I will send you a photo you can use.  
Isak: Keep me updated, ok? 

***

Isak was running down Hausmannsgate, his backpack swinging uncomfortably from side to side. He had overslept, had woken up past eight, was eating one of the Wasa sandwiches while running. Last night, he had been laying awake, chatting with Chris. Then the very realization that he had been chatting with Chris had kept him awake through most of the night.

In the morning, there had been people in the laundry room. He hadn’t even had a chance to pee, and of course he had missed his bus. Now his only hope of showing up on time was catching a tram, which meant that he would have to run fast.

Running past Elvebakken, he turned his head, as if the guy he met on Wednesday morning would still be in the process of walking towards the entrance. But if he was, he was already lost in the crowd.  

And with a thud, Isak ran into someone.

He had hoped that if he ever bumped into the guy from the store again, he would be able to seem calm and collected. That he would be able to strike up an actual conversation. He had not planned to actually crash into him at full speed. Hadn’t expected his books to fly out of the backpack that he of course hadn’t bothered to close properly. Hadn’t expected to find himself on top of him on the pavement, pressing a half eaten wasa sandwich to his chest, rubbing cream cheese into the denim of his jacket. He hadn’t planned any of this, but here he was.

“Fuck”, the guy muttered, and for a moment neither of them moved. The guy just let his head rest on the pavement, closed his eyes. “What the fuck just happened”.  
And then he opened his eyes, looked at Isak. Winced.  
“Aren’t you going to move”  
The guy who had looked so suave the day before, now merely looked annoyed. Getting up. Trying to wipe the cream cheese off of his jacket.

“Don’t you ever tire of those things? They taste like shit.”  
“Eh. Yeah.” Isak’s hope of making a better second impression was gone, that’s for sure.  
And Isak went stiff with embarrassment. Not that eating these was embarrassing. But if the guy had as much practice reading signs, as Eskild had at reading subtext, this was one of the minor things that could let on that he wasn’t living in a place with a kitchen.

In a hurry, Isak gathered his books and his phone and the apple that after it’s encounter with the pavement was bound to be brown and mushy before lunchtime. This time, he actually bothered to close the backpack. And then, he just stood there. With all hopes of actually catching the tram gone, he found looking at the guy, hoping for a way to erase what had just happened.

“Sorry for running into you”  
“No worries. It’s not every day that the very count Dracula attacks me in broad daylight”  
Finally, there was a hint of a smile at the other guys face. And Isak, because it was the only reference he knew they shared, stretched out his hand in a poor attempt of mimicking count Dracula himself. Fingers outstretched, slowly twisting his palm upwards.

“Come… here” he quoted, making sure that his facial expression showed that this was indeed a joke, rather than a very blunt move. But it worked. The guy actually took a step towards him, seemingly hesitant, but also smiling. Then another, past Isak's outstretched arm. When he stopped, he was close enough that Isak could smell him. Who knew that someones scent could be this memorable. But it only lasted for a few seconds. Suddenly he moved backwards again. Two steps. Isak should have found a better reference. One where he stayed.

“Your will is strong, eh… guy who… smokes..” Isak continued the quote. Fuck. He should have found a better nickname. Isak the nerd strikes again.  
“Even. The name is Even.” And this time he actually did smile.  
“Eh. Isak,” Isak added, letting his hand fall to his side, while trying to laugh, trying to make the situation less awkward, but it only made him feel like a giggling schoolgirl.

“I’m flattered that you chose to watch Dracula last night just because of me”  
“I didn’t” Isak felt his cheeks getting red. “I’ve seen it ages ago”  
“Of course you have. Of course”.

And once more, the guy turned around and walked into the school building.

***

On the tram, Isak felt his phone go off in his pocket. One message from his mother.

“Don’t forget that you have therapy at four.”

Therapy? Isak unlocked the phone and flipped through the messages. Something was off. None of these messages contained bible quotes. None of them sounded like his mother as all, actually. Rather, they spoke of family dinners, grandparents, cinema tickets and plans for the summer. Stuff his mother hadn't talked about for years. Stuff that probably belonged to other people's everyday lives, but which just seemed off when it appeared on Isak's own phone.

But this wasn't Isak's phone. This mother certainly wasn’t his. And this phone most certainly did not belong to him.


	5. Friday 29. April. 2016. 12:05.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Messages at lunchtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another really short chapter. 
> 
> I was having such a hard time with this part! I'm on my second day of trying to quit smoking, and whatever writing skills I may have had must have been fueled by nicotine. Both thinking and writing is pretty hard today. 
> 
> Anyway. I just posted it in order to get on with the next part.  
> Let's hope I will be more pleased with the next chapter.

Every attempt at calling his own phone had failed. Isak had sent a dozen messages, each telling whoever had Isak's phone - and he really did hope that it was Even - that he needed copies of every single message that he received during the day. In an act of desperation, he had even sent his pin code, in case the battery went flat.

The owner of the phone that Isak was holding was reveiled once he started to look through the photos. After flipping through several months’ worth of relatively boring photos of buildings, trees, fog and rain did Isak finally find what he was looking for. A couple of awkward selfies. Photos of what must be Even’s friends. Sometimes they were at Elvebakken, but in most of the pictures they were just walking around town. Further back, Isak found what he had hoped he wouldn’t - two nudes of a light haired girl, still wearing traces of her summer tan. Was she pretty? It didn’t matter. These photos were not selfies. They were most likely taken by Even, with this phone. He had been standing with only this phone between himself and this naked girl, and she was looking at him in a way that was definitely familiar. You don’t look at a stranger like this. Challenging. Inviting.

While Isak and Jonas were eating lunch, the answer finally came. It was definitely not the answer he had expected.

 _Unknown number: “Isak. Did someone trick you into doing porn?”_  
_You: “What? Porn? No!”_  
_You: “But did I get any messages?”_  
_Unknown number: “Who is Penetrator Chris, then? Your boyfriend?”_  
_You: “Seriously. No. Just some guy. It’s a joke. It’s a russebuss. But seriously, did I get any messages?”_  
_Unknown number: “If I cared about russe-stuff, I would have been wearing red by now._  
_Unknown number: “No porn movie, then? I did use your browser, but I couldn’t find you in there.”_

Isak went cold with something he didn’t quite know whether was shame, fear, embarassment or all of the above. Though he couldn’t remember which tabs were open at the moment, he knew for sure that they belonged to the privacy of the bed he hadn’t slept in for a week. To the short moments of arousal that never quite managed to chase the omnipresent feeling of guilt.

It would be easier to deal with the phone actually being lost, than to know that Even, the guy who smelled so nice but was probably straight or at least once took a nude photo of a girl who might or might not have been his girlfriend, now knew exactly what porn Isak liked to watch. The mere thought of it made him feel dizzy..

 _You: “No porn movie. And seriously. Don’t snoop around, ok?_  
_You: DID I GET ANY MESSAGES?”_  
_Unknown number: “Yeah, Your mother asked when you’ll be home.”_  
_You: “Tell her I’ll meet her in church on Sunday”_  
_Unknown number: “Church? Really? You’re a complex character, count Dracula.”_  
_You: “Just tell her, allright?”_  
_You: “You have a therapy appointment at four btw”_

And then, the phone went silent.

Finding suitable blackmail material on this phone was easier said than done. Isak was flipping through the open tabs in the browser. There was no porn. No secret blogs. No tinder - and most definitely no grindr. Tumblr was not installed. Except for the two nudes - and they might be artistic enough to pass - the phone was crisp, clean and looked as if it was made ready for inspection. Most of the open tabs were online newspapers. There were a few reviews of movies that were probably screening at the moment, all of which had failed to impress the reviewers, and a tumblr page mostly dedicated to screenwriting tips. The most recent youtube history consisted of short scenes from Seinfeld, - a show that Isak had found intensely unfunny on the few occasions he had seen it. 

“Mph. Isak. I didn’t know you were still drawing.” Jonas amused voice sounded from the other side of the lunch table.  
“Huh, drawing? I don’t, really, ever.”

The results of his only foray into art was still visible on the wall behind the school, but he would never admit to being behind that piece. Not only because of the illegality of it all, but also because it really wasn’t any good.

“Hey. I do follow you on insta, you know. Seriously. That thing you uploaded now? It’s a ... Vampire? That’s.. Eating something?”  
Magnus was staring into his own phone, and started laughing

“Is it that Dracula thing from yesterday? Pfft... I don’t eat… food. That’s actually pretty funny Isak.”  
“Instagram? Wtf? Let me see.”

And indeed, on his instagram was a doodle of a curly haired Count Dracula eating that darned wasa sandwich. He was never going to eat one of those again.

He needed his phone back. Now. Needed control. His phone was his life line. He needed it to connect. Needed it. Needed it to prevent his life from falling apart. To prevent his parents from bringing him home. Needed to get in touch with Chris. Needed to get that fight to happen. Needed to.

 _You: “Please don’t rape my instagram. Just. Please”_  
_Unknown number: “You saw it! Looked like you, right?”_  
_You: “When are you free. I need my phone”_  
_Unknown number: “Sorry. My parents will pick me up after I see the doctor. Grandmas birthday.”_  
_You: “Seriously. I really need my phone. I can wait outside the doctor’s office?”_  
_Unknown number:  “No.”_  
_You: “Jeez. I’ll come to your school, if that makes it easier”_  
_Unknown number:  “Eh, sorry. We have this excursion after lunch… can’t we just meet up tomorrow? You can come to my place if you want?”_

Any other day, Isak would be thrilled to be invited. Today, however, he really just wanted his damn phone. The guy’s google calendar did however prove he wasn’t lying. The day actually was marked off as Grandmas birthday. And there definitely was an excursion, though without any details of time and place. The four o’clock appointment was only marked off with a sad-faced smiley.  

 _You: “Is there any chance that you will let me meet you at the doctor’s office?”_  
_Unknown number: “No way at all. See you tomorrow.”_  
_You: “Why are you in therapy, btw?”_  
  
Again the phone went quiet, this time for almost three hours. Isak tried messaging, tried calling, but to no avail.

***

And Isak and Jonas left school, went to mc donalds to eat a stack of cheese burgers for dinner. They hadn't been just the two of them for a while now. These days Magnus usually created a sort of soundtrack to their lives and their conversations. He just seemed to always be there, constantly trying to attract their attention. Being alone with Jonas for once, the silence felt really unfamiliar. 

"Eh. Jonas. If someone broke into your phone, what's the thing you would be most embarassed if they saw?" Isak said while crumpling up the wrapping paper from his third burger. 

"My Jodel history" Jonas didn't use a second to think it over. "Yeah. Definitely that."  

"I was expecting you to answer 'porn', actually. So your Jodel history would be worse than... that?!

"Most def. Everybody watches porn. I mean. It might _feel_ personal and stuff, but... unless you have some really embarassing kink, it's just going to look like... porn to them, right? It would be way worse to... like.. having someone suddenly read all the stuff that I thought would never be traced back to me." He lowered his voice "You know. Like... really bad one night stands and.. ehm... 'does this sound like herpes to you'. You know?" 

"You asked Jodel if you have herpes? Jesus, Jonas." 

"In my defense, I asked the doctor too... Also it wasn't. Herpes I mean. It wasn't."

Isak had never used Jodel. Also, he was sure that Jonas had a too simplistic view of porn. When Even had gone through his phone this morning, he most definitely had not _just_ seen porn. He had seen something that gave him a very specific idea about what kind of person Isak really was.  

*** 

Not only was Jodel installed on this phone, but it had also been cunningly hidden in the tools-folder. But while Isak's index finger was still hovering over the icon, Even finally decided to answer.

_“Allow me to be just a little bit mysterious, ok?”_

Right. Mysterious. Even could try and be mysterious all he liked, but the allure was fading. He might be pretty and he might smell nice, but he was probably straight and he definitely liked to play games. Isak didn’t have the energy for mystery right now. Even Jodel could wait until later. 

Isak put the phone into his pocket.

The only thing he was planning to deal with tonight, was the Yakuza. And he didn’t need his phone to do that. Even’s phone would do just fine.


	6. Friday. 29. April 2016. 21:16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting  
> Kissing  
> Rejection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bought cigarettes. Drank too much beer. Wrote this on my phone.

"Just calm down, alright” Jonas stretched out his hand, as if one hand would ever be enough to calm the crowd.

From the moment they had left the car, everything had escalated quickly. Isak had expected it. He had been planning this. After all, he had been the one guiding the Yakuza towards where the Riot club kept their bus. Him and Jonas in the back of their car. But everything felt different when they finally got there. When people rushed out. When the first guy fell to the ground after being headbutted. When he saw Chris screaming rather than fighting, his face livid with anger. 

He had not expected Eva and her friends to be there. To stare back at him from the other side of the crowd. Eva wearing her “I don’t even know who you are anymore”-expression. She would never need to put it into words. He could feel her eyes on him, and the weight of their shared history and of his own ability to fuck up. To ruin friendships just by trying to stay in control.

And she was right. She didn’t know him. They had hardly spoken since before Christmas, and even back then, back when they spoke daily, when they had considered each other friends, she really had not known him.

And then it was on. As the bottle smashed into the skull of the guy whose name Isak hadn’t even bothered to learn, his string of thoughts was broken. Which had been the plan. For a brief moment, these messy thoughts that he never managed to chase were replaced. In their place was chaotic clarity. Bodies against bodies. Fists meeting ribs and cheekbones. And the smell. Of blood and sweat and heavy, beer-tainted breathing. And his own adrenaline pumping through his body. It felt good. He finally felt good. Strong. In control.

It could have lasted forever. It should have. But nothing this good can last. Reality will always ruin everything. The reality where you are small, weak and insignificant. The reality where you are easily defeated. Where one punch to your face is enough to make you give up. Although the adrenaline is still making your face glow, your breath shake. On your back, on the ground, tasting your own blood. The only 16 year-old in a pile of bodies who are all old enough to move on and leave you to deal with your own shit.

***

After the police had broken up the fight, Isak found Chris hiding out behind the bus. Removed from the chaos that was gradually settling down, Chris was clearly panicking.

“Hey” Isak put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down without getting too close.

“Hey, Isak” Chris’ voice was hoarse, rushed. Barely audible. “this… what the fuck did we do?”

“We did all of this. It worked out fine, yeah? No chance in hell that they will mess with you again? Right?” Isak held out his fist, but the fist that bumped into his seemed almost evasive, avoided using force. Then Chris laughed. A quiet, hollow laughter.

“You don’t get it, do you? We thought we set up a trap, right? But all this time, _they_ have been the ones baiting _us_. Someone were filming today. Our hands are tied. Whenever the Yakuza feel like it, William will be reported to the police.” Isak said nothing. Chris was right. They had messed up. So he kept on patting his shoulder. Tried to offer some comfort. Tried to be calm. But Chris continued, his voice thick from suppressed tears:

“Just. Fuck this, man. It feels like we’ve pressed the self destruct button. I mean. Fuck. William could actually go to jail for this, and it would be My. Fucking. Fault.” And he punched the side of the bus, one new dent for every word.

And Isak didn’t know what to say. Was put off by the fact that Chris was actually crying. So he pulled him in. Wrapped his arms around him, rugged back and forth. Muttered his quiet “It’s ok… it’s ok”s without letting go. He didn’t know how long they stood there, but he held Chris until his breathing slowed down. Minutes passed before Chris finally pulled him in for a kiss. A desperate kiss where blood was mixed with blood and tears and snot. Not a short count to three-kiss like last time. This was a long, messy and hungry kiss. The kind of kiss that makes it all too easy to keep the world at bay, forget all the chaos. At least for a while.

“I hope you know that this ends here”, Chris muttered as he pulled away. Still with one hand resting on Isak’s cheek. “It’s just too much right now.” He didn’t look Isak in the eyes. Just rejected him. Word by word, as if this was all par for the course. “Need to try and be a good friend for once, you know.” He was clearly expecting that Isak would agree.

“Yeah. It was a bad idea from start, right?” Isak forced the words out. Forced himself to smile.  Sure. Chris was a bad idea. Chris and him would never be a thing. But he would have loved for them to keep living this specific kind of nothing. For this nothingness to last a while longer. And Chris looked at him, smiled, touched his broken lip with his thumb.

“It _was_ a good idea, Isakyaki. You’re cute. But it still ends here.”

And as they walked towards the others, they both put their game faces back on. Chris managed to seem cheerful, almost boastful, yet fully relaxed. Isak felt the hardness of his own expression. And he knew that it was real. This really was him. From core to skin. It was all about choosing which of his experiences would be allowed to define him.

And today he was not the queer kid with the crazy mother. He was not the friend who never managed to make other people feel good. He was not someone who had just been rejected. Today, he was the guy who had fought hard to defend his friend’s honor, who had a split lip to show for it, and who could, without exaggerating, tell anyone who asked that they ‘should have seen the other guy’.

As they turned the corner, Isak realized that Jonas was waiting for them. Casual as always, though it was obvious that he wasn’t just standing there by coincidence. Jonas had seen something. But if Chris was bothered by this, he didn’t let it show:

“All good? I’m sober, so if you want, I can give the two of you a ride to the city. You in?”

And Jonas just nodded at Chris' words. Quietly. He didn't speak as they got into the back seat of the car. Going back to the city, nobody said a word. The silence was thick with music and unasked questions.

In the back of the car, Jonas was looking at Isak as if he had never really seen him before.


	7. Saturday. 30. April 2016. 00:16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Jonas talk a lot.  
> Also they smoke.  
> And eat kebabs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right now, it's eight minutes past five in Oslo. I am watching the reflection of the sunset on the brick wall on the other side of the street, and it's really quite pretty. I look up between each sentence, every few seconds, and every time I look, the glow has intensified. The seagulls are casting shadows, but I haven't seen any actual birds. Like Isak, I have a complicated relationship with sleep. 
> 
> No. I haven't been writing all night. I've just struggled a bit with this painfully short chapter, which I wanted to contain more than it currently does. It was supposed to have Even-stuff and Phone-stuff. The original version of the intro text contained a message about all the things that I found hard to balance out, but I dropped the specifics. I just hope I found a balance that works. And if I didn't, I will still keep on writing. 
> 
> There will be another, probably short chapter about this night. There is stuff that needs to happen before tomorrow.
> 
> NB!  
> I will be away for the end of the week. That might mean that I won't be able to write anything. At worst, this can mean a week with no updates. I hope it won't, but don't expect much, ok? I will of course continue when I am back.

“Mum is working tonight, and Thea is visiting her dad. Wanna crash?”

Of course Isak wanted to stay the night at Jonas’ place. It was further away than Eskild’s basement, but Isak would rather not be alone right now, and the way Noora had looked at them before running away from the fight, had told him to be even more careful about visiting Eskild than before. He would most definitely not like to run in to Noora right now.

Chris had dropped them off by the central station, and they were walking eastwards through the city. Across the river. Through the drunken masses of people. At Grønland they stopped to buy kebabs to go. Isak had to go for a kebab in pita because of his lip. No chance in hell that he would be able to gape over a kebab roll at the moment. Before he could start eating, Jonas stopped him and patted his pocket with a knowing half-smile.

And so they kept walking, away from the people and the drunkards and the cars. At first Isak thought they were heading towards the skate bowl, but Jonas pointed to the “drug free zone”-sign over the entrance and kept going, off the road and between the trees and down towards the railroad tracks. The world grew dark and quiet around them while Jonas pulled a pack of Blue Master’s from his pocket, and wordlessly started to make a joint. No bag of green this time, just a small, pale brown lump.

“You smoke brown shit now? That’s kind of unlike you.”  
“Yeah. We still haven’t found ourselves a new guy, so I had to buy this from some rando. This shit doesn’t even deserve to be called brown, It’s almost yellow. Still does the job, though.”  

And Isak smiled. Looked at Jonas’ practiced fingers as they were joining the papers. There was something comforting about it, like a ritual. A thing the two of them shared, and that he was afraid that they would lose now that Jonas and this Mahdi-guy were out searching for a new dealer.

“Hey, Jonas. I’m in on the big purchase. If you still want me to. I really am broke, but I guess I can swing 250 kr.”  
And Jonas lit the joint. Inhaled deeply. Spoke on the exhale.  
“Yeah?”    
“Yeah. Of course I’m in. Bros, right?” But Jonas still didn’t look at him. He looked at the smoke. Inhaled deeply before passing Isak the joint. When he finally gave his affirmative “right”, it was too late. The silence had come before him.    

It took three hits before Isak finally felt his shoulders relaxing. He had been waiting for Jonas to mention Chris since they left the car. Had been dreading it at first. Then, the silence had started to feel suffocating. After the fourth hit, he was starting to feel ready, almost impatient for Jonas to finally say something. But only when Isak had returned the joint did Jonas speak. Not hesitantly. None of that forced lightness that Eskild did so well. Jonas just inhaled deeply, as if to prepare himself, and then spoke slowly,

“...You and Chris, eh?”  
“Eh. Yeah. I wasn’t really planning for you to see that” Isak mumbled “but yeah. It’s nothing.” It was the truth. There wasn't anything between them. But he could have worded it differently. Chris had definitely been _something._ He had been a test. He had been the first guy he had ever kissed. He had been a way for Isak to show himself that there's no point in  _being_ like this,  _feeling_ like this if you aren't going to live it. 

“Nothing, eh?”  
“Yeah. Nothing.”

And for a moment Isak was afraid that that would be the end of the conversation. That he had shot down yet another of these talks before it got off the ground. Every other time he had tried to tell someone, at least until Eskild, he had backed out of it, found new lies to cling on to. Used other people’s assumptions as a way out. But today, Jonas had actually seen him. And Isak wanted him to keep on seeing him. But as it was, he was averting his gaze.

“Ooh, look” Jonas had blown an exceptionally good smoke ring, dense and perfectly round. “Good, yeah? But seriously - the hookups that we don’t talk about tend to happen while drinking, right?” He blew another smoke ring before handing the joint back to Isak.  
“...and?”  
“And you were both completely sober. Isak. Seriously. Can’t we just talk about this?”

“Why? It’s nothing. It was just a hook up. We hooked up last week. We hooked up today. Then afterwards, he told me we’ll never hook up again.”  
“Oh. Sorry, man.”  
“And I’m not an idiot. I know hookups are supposed to be casual. You don’t normally, like, break up with someone you just hooked up with a couple of times. I mean. Anyone else would have just never mentioned it again, and it would have all been ok. So basically I feel worse than I would if he’d just gone back to ghosting me, and why am I even talking about this?”

“This” Jonas was gesturing with the joint. “Quality might be poor, but it does the job, right?”  
“Yeah, it’s good. Good enough.” Although he could still feel his split lip and the bruised ribs, the joint had dulled the pain. It wasn't gone. It just felt as if it had been distributed over a larger area, like it was impossible to point out where exactly he hurt. It offered a weird kind of relief.

“Did you get to talk to Eva, by the way? She didn’t look too happy to see us.”  
“Didn’t talk. I fucked up. Also I heard she’s fucking Chris.” Jonas was grimacing, and suddenly. Finally. He was looking straight at Isak. “Did you get to sleep with him?”  
“What? No.”  
“If you ever do, can you please make sure to tell me that he’s shit in bed?”

Jonas was still looking at Isak. Laughing hoarsely at his own half-joke. And by that, the conversation ended. It couldn't have lasted more than a minute. It hadn't included a word about sexes or genders or sexualities. And Isak hadn't told Jonas to keep it to himself. An implied trust. Not one that included basements and mothers and mobile phones with porn and naked girls and therapy appointments, but still.

And in the darkness by the railroad tracks, in a night that was chilly but not cold, they were digging into their kebabs. Isak realized how hungry he had been. Hadn't eated since the after school cheeseburgers. Smoking usually made him ravenous, but even when stoned, eating rarely felt as good as this. It was as if the lukewarm but spicy meat scratched an itch deep inside of him. They ate in silence, just occasionally making satisfied noises because of the food. But at least the silence wasn’t awkward anymore.


	8. Saturday. 30. April 2016. 12:12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak reads Even's jodel history on his way to Even's flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that a week's break from writing also breaks the flow. But someone posted a line from "the sound of silence" by Simon and Garfunkel on jodel today, and suddenly I was able to write again. 
> 
> Wrote this quickly, and the chapter is really short, but I know what the next one will contain, so expect more soon.

He kind of regretted going through Even’s jodel history now. It had started as a petty kind of revenge. A proof that he too had seen something private, like his porn most definite had been. It had also been a distraction. A way to keep his mind off everything that had happened: Chris. Jonas. His sudden ability to talk. How he couldn’t help but look for traces of something being _different_ whenever Jonas looked at him.

The morning had been normal. Honey Corn and cartoons on tv. Smalltalk and the still sluggish feeling that was left behind by the pot last night. Still, everything felt strangely unfamiliar. His lip, still swollen after the fight. The residual adrenaline that gushed up whenever he thought of last night. The fighting. The talking.

Suddenly the phone in his pocket started to vibrate. Of course the message was sent by Isak’s own phone. Of course it was Even.

_Unknown number: Sorry for being an ass earlier. If you want your phone, you can come over now if you want._

And now he was on the bus, had worked his way through months of Even’s Jodel history. At first, it hadn’t looked that bad. Judging by the content, Even mostly used Jodel in the wee hours of the morning, and as the first few posts were cartoons that featured penises, he’d taken a screenshot and sent it to Even. The cartoon was funny, really. Not over the top at all, and it felt like a suitable reply. You have seen something of mine. I have seen something of yours.

But after sending the cartoon, he had kept on scrolling. More posts that didn’t feel too personal. Observations on the bus. Song lyrics. More penis cartoons. The funniest ones had received quite a few upvotes, they had made Isak smile and keep on scrolling.

There was something about the tone. The humour. The wide range of themes and references he touched upon in the privacy of anonymity that drew a picture of a person Isak couldn’t help but like. “Give me some sentences that can be used both while having sex and while eating dinner with the family” Isak and Jonas has used to play that exact game when they were drunk.

But after a post from 34 days ago, where he’d happily announced that he had a spontaneous, throbbing erection, the mood had changed. Suddenly he wrote about his own lingering depression, and how scared he was that it would never lift. About the sex drive he had once had, but had since lost. Of loneliness. Of not being able to deal with all the stupid shit he had done. For a while, he had written about his own inability to escape his own mind. Repetitively. Like a mantra.

And Isak knew that he should have stopped reading a while ago. Knew that these were things he wished he hadn't seen. But this thumb had kept on scrolling, and his eyes had kept on reading. Because even there, in the sea of depressed jodels, there were posts that made Isak feel closer to him.

“Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again” Even had written. And although every song Simon and Garfunkel had ever made now reminded Isak of that embarrassing face swap image he had made last year, which Jonas had liked, but pointedly never mentioned, he really did use to listen to them a lot. This was the song his mother used to play on early mornings, before the sound of the christian radio station had taken over.

It was a weird cluster of emotions. His mother, who had obviously struggled, but still hadn’t lost it. All the times he had just been _too much_ for Jonas. And at the same time, this weird feeling of connection. That Even and him had listened to the same song, and maybe they hadn’t felt the _same_ , but they had both felt _something_.

Before christmas - and yes, Even had posted a photo of his christmas tree, he had posted no less than three posts asking for advice on swapping schools in the middle of the school year. And it went on. As the bus drove past Torshov, he skimmed the final three jodels.

_“Has any of you changed your name? How did your families react?”_

_“Will deleting my facebook account delete my messenger history?_

_“Can people still see the messages I’ve sent them on fb after I block them?”_

He got off at Arendalsgata. Called Even, whose voice sounded strange and muddled over the phone as he helped him find the right apartment building. The feeling of dread grew as he walked towards the third floor. Would he be able to strike up a casual conversation after reading all this? Would he be able to speak at all?

Isak waited a few seconds before knocking. Read the name on the door sign. Only two names. Even and what must be his mother. Bech Næsheim. Took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected this to feel like coming home. Exhaled slowly. Prepared himself. Knocked on the door. Waited for it to open.


	9. Saturday. 30. April 2016. 13:13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak goes to Even's place in order to pick up his phone. They talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are times when I regret writing this in English. Not that I want to stop now. Not at all. But I have been suffering from English-is-hard-syndrome over the last few days. I grasp for sentence structures I have never learned, test my phrases in google to see if they are actually used by real people. I feel like a kid who has read alot, but who hasn’t really tried my hands at writing before. I know I will learn from this, but I realize that I could have written a better story in my own language. But! Enough self flagellation for today. Here’s the new chapter.

They hadn’t spoken at all after Isak arrived. Rather, they had followed the smell of coffee and fried eggs down the hallway and into a kitchen that was plain but messy enough to feel homely. The table was still decked for two, and covered in the leftovers from what must have been a long breakfast. Newspapers, mismatched forks and empty cups of coffee. Plates covered in breadcrumbs. Bread still on the cutting board in the middle of the table. Shrimp salad and ham and cheese that had already started to sweat.

“Are someone sitting here, or can I?” There were only two chairs around the table, Isak didn’t have that many options.

“Mum left for work about an hour ago. Sit wherever you like.”

“What does your mother do?” Isak asked in an attempt to keep the conversation flowing, but Even didn’t answer. Just got up, pulled some cups from the dishwasher.

“Is Snufkin alright, or would you prefer the Hemulen?” Moomin cups. Of course. This guy obviously lived with his mother.

“Yeah. Whatever. Whichever is fine”.

It felt weird to sit across the table from Even. Although they had met twice before, they hadn’t spoken for more than a minute at the time, and Isak had never really looked at him. Sure, he had smelled him for a while in the grocery store. Sure, he had admired his posture, shoulders, even his butt for a while. Of course he had seen his face. But he hadn’t really looked him in the eyes. Hadn’t taken the time to study his face. Before now.

It was a restless face. The eyes were constantly moving, and there was a small jitter at the corner of his mouth. He pouted his lips slightly, as if he was thinking, but the thoughts were never put into words. The blush on his cheeks was probably caused by steam from the teapot - he was using a fork to lift tea-bags out of the pot and onto his plate. Isak had never been much of a tea-drinker, but it smelled really nice. Apple and cinnamon.

As Isak didn’t know what to say, he turned inwards. Relaxed his shoulders. Steadied his gaze. Tried to keep that half-smile that usually made girls giggle. But as the silence settled, it was obvious that his body language didn’t help Even relax at all. Rather he started fiddling, pulled his fingers through his hair. Had a sip of tea. fingers drumming on the respatex. Placed a bag of snus under his lip. Offered Isak one.

“Nah. I don’t…”

“Of course you don’t.” More drumming. Even bit his lip. “You want something to eat? Don’t think I have any wasa sandwiches for you, though.” Of course those damned sandwiches had to come up again, but at least even had made himself smile, if only for a brief second.

“Eh, sure. Yes please.”

It was awkward. Normally, Isak would crack a joke at this point. But it’s not easy to find something to joke about, when you’ve spent the last half hour delving into someone's self-hatred and despair.

“You can just use mum’s plate, if that's ok.” The addition of another empty sentence was what made Isak realize how nervous Even really was. On the two occasions where they had talked, Even had never used words as a filler. Everything he had said had had a purpose. Right now, though, his words just amplified the silence.

But as Even covered his slice in strawberry jam and brown cheese. Isak realised that he was gauging his reaction. Looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Not your favourite?”

“Strawberry jam and brown cheese? Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Want a bite?” Even extended his arm toward him. “It’s nice. Promise.” He finally laughed. It was only a soft giggle, but enough to reach the corners of his eyes, and to make his shoulders rise for a moment.

“Sure. How bad can it be.” And it wasn’t bad. Of course it wasn’t bad. As he leant over the table and bit into the sticky cheese, Isak could feel the tip of Even’s fingers against his chin. Just for a moment.

“It’s awful. Seriously. How can you eat this?”

“Maybe I like awful stuff? Maybe awful is what does it for me?  I invited you over, didn’t I?”

“Good point. Misery loves company.” Isak regretted the words before they had even left his mouth. “Fuck, sorry! I didn’t mean…”

“I was _going_ to say that ‘That explains why you decided to stay’, but you just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Even had stopped smiling now. “So, Isak. Tell me all about myself”

“What?”

“You know what I mean. I’m trying to talk to you, but there’s stuff you that you're just bursting to talk about. Just spill the beans.”  

“Eh. You are someone who forgets to take the snus out before you start eating”

“Oh fuck. I thought something was up.” he took the snus out, placed it on the side of his plate along with the tea bags. “But I’m not that easily distracted. Come on. Tell me.”

“Eh. Did you end up changing your name?” Isak asked.

Even grew stiff for a moment. His fingers stopped drumming on the table, but then he relaxed. Leant back into his chair, and the corner of his mouth curled into something resembling a smile.  

“I changed my name”. Even nodded, looking serious now. Looked straight at him. His eyes unmoving.

“Really? What did they call you before.”

“Florian.”

“What? Seriously?

“Yeah. I was named after my father.” Even nodded slowly, as if to underline what he just said. “My mother met him at a metal festival i Germany. Wacken or something. It was only a one night stand, but… remember where you came from, right?”

“... Florian?”

“Yeah. I’ve tried contacting him, obviously. She thought he was from a place called Stuttgart, but they only met that one night. The only lead I had was a phone number that he’d written down on the inside of a record sleeve. So I tried calling him last year.”

“And did he answer at all?”

“Yeah. Turns out the guy wasn’t called Florian at all. His name was Günther, and he lived in Düsseldorf. Maybe he lied about his name, I don’t know, or maybe mum was really drunk. Anyway. There was no chance in hell that I was going to change my name to _that._ So I thought I’d just swap it for something normal.”

“Why would you change your name to Günther just because… wait… are you joking with me?”

“Eh, yeah.”

“Günter from Düsseldorf?” Even was finally smiling from real now, the kind of smile where it felt as if the entire mood in the room changed, where his face opened up and his eyes almost closed.

“Günter from Düsseldorf.”

“But, eh… Florian. Seriously. Sorry for reading all that stuff. But you started it. With the porn.”

“What? I wouldn’t have been able to _invent_ a friend called Penetrator Chris. That was all your doing.”

“No. Not him. I mean. The porn. You saw my porn. You told me.”

“Eh year. And? It was just porn.” Isak sighed “Everybody watches porn, right?” Isak suddenly found it hard to look him in the eyes. Took a sip of the tea. Swallowed hard.

“…  ehm. Even. Not everybody watches gay porn, allright? It’s kind of… personal.” And when he looked up, he realised that Even wasn’t laughing anymore. That there was no spite in his eyes. He just looked at him. Pressed his lips together. Swallowed. And spoke slowly.

“Yeah. Sorry. I should have figured that out, really. Just. I sent that before your mother started texting.” Even opened the window, and lit a cigarette. “It's just. You know. Normally when I get to know someone, we talk about which movies we like, what kind of music we listen to. That kind of shit. And then we move on to the deep stuff when we’re drunk or high or whatever.”

“Yeah. Right.”

Moving on to the deep stuff. Isak never really did that. Drunk. High. he never touched upon the deep stuff.  

“I mean, Jesus. I’ve received more texts from your mother than I have from you. And you know… like… you got that text about my therapy appointment before you learned that I have a cat allergy, or what kind of tv-shows I like. This whole process just feels backwards”  

Isak felt his head nod slowly.

“Yeah. Right. What’s your favourite tv show, then?”

“I don’t do favourites. Never have. But… yeah. I always come back to Seinfeld.”

“... Yeah. I saw the memes… I don’t agree, though.”

“Hey. What if we just pretend that we don’t know all that stuff. Start fresh, you know. Could we do that? I’ll forget about your porn and all your religious shit and pretend that I’ve never heard about your Penetrator-friend, and that I don’t know about the guy who begs to to come into his shower everyday. And you can forget that I’m a fuck up, and maybe, if we actually become friends, when we get drunk and feel like delving into the deep stuff, we’ll just pretend that it’s the first time we hear about it.”

“Eskild is not asking me to come into the shower with him. He asks if I want to _borrow_ his shower. Because he’s nice. It’s not the same thing. Also. You can say it, you know. About my mum.”

“What about her?”

“That it’s not just religious shit. You can tell me that you know that she has lost it.”

As Even inhaled ans let out one final puff of smoke, he closed his eyes and let the grey spring light cover his face. All of a sudden he looked tired, and within a few seconds, his face shifted between several different emotions, before settling on dead serious.

“That’s the point, though. Can we. Please. Just pretend that we _don’t_ know. Can we try to just. Hang out with each other. Pretend that you are you, and not your mother, and that I’m just… what you see, rather than the person who always ruin stuff for my friends. I mean. Until the moment when everything comes back to bite us in the ass. Which is bound to happen. But it’s not now, is it? ”

“We can do that.”

They looked into each other's eyes. A moment of quiet understanding, that didn’t end as the moment passed and the conversation kept going.

“So. Why don’t you like Seinfeld? What’s not to like about it?”

“I don’t know? It’s not that funny? Kind of homophobic”

“Just _sometimes_. Hey. It’s old.”

“That something is old doesn’t mean it’s good, though.”

“No. But some things age gracefully. I’m older and more mature than you. I know this.” Isak couldn’t help but laugh.

***

The first episode didn’t convince Isak. Halfway in, he groaned and wanted to give up. It was hard to focus at all. Not only because of the show. The sofa in Even's room was narrow and uncomfortable, and because of the tiny laptop screen, they had to sit quite close to each other. 

“If I was high, then maybe, just _maybe_ I would survive watching this.”

Of course Even had a joint somewhere. But Even's own scent was barely dulled by the the weed. This time, both of their bodies smelled like Old spice deodorant. And they were sitting so close. Hips touching.

“I wish you _had_ changed schools. You could have come to Nissen. We could have hung out together.”

“Hey. You promised.”

“I kind of like this, though. Hanging out without anyone else around.”

“Just keep watching. Remember, these people go to jail in the last episode. They live on borrowed time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jam and brown cheese is in the same taste-category as peanut butter and jelly. It’s something that some people like, but which others find disgusting. Not sure which of these groups I belong to. It was my go-to-breadspread when I was a kid. It's also what Eskild made for Even while he was depressed in s3.


	10. Sunday. 01. May 2016. 10:50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak goes to church with his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was painfully hard to write. 
> 
> Not because anything traumatic happens, but because I wanted to sort of... show how even when she's coping, Isak's way of looking at his mother is influenced by her illness. How he's looking for symptoms and signs.
> 
> Hope it works. Bit nervous now.
> 
> Eta: Tried fixing clunky language.

Meeting in church was a good idea. It wasn't neutral ground, not by any means, but at least it was one of the very few places that wasn't tainted with painful memories. 

Isak had ever straight out _refused_ to go to to church, but at some point, he had started to make plans with Jonas on Sunday mornings. He'd always explain it as a one off, claimed he would be back next week, only to find himself making new plans. Week after week, until his parents had stopped asking him to get dressed and ready.

They had never argued about it. Isak had never mentioned his newfound atheism around the dinner table. Heck, they hadn’t even _talked_ about it. At all. Just like they avoided any topic that could lead to discussion. Isak had told himself that not even his mother would expect a high schooler to go to church, that they probably considered this a natural part of growing up. But of course it wasn't. He knew, and he knew that they knew.

Church had always been something the two of them did together. While dad was grading papers at home, Isak and his mother would have a kind of heart to heart. The short walk was the only time of the week where they would talk about stuff that was a bit more difficult. Friendships and hardships and how they were _really_ doing.

Until that one Sunday morning, when Isak had woken from one of the dreams that only offered bliss until reality caught up with him. And while he was wiping his stomach with the corner of the duvet, he had realized that there was no way he would be wearing his church clothes, and that he most definitely didn’t want to dig into neither his own issues nor hers.

It had been more than a year. Although there had never been an open conflict between Isak and his mum, coming here was a peace offering.

***

Meeting in church had been a good idea, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous. So nervous in fact, that he had showed up half an hour early and found himself fiddling with his phone on a bench in the churchyard. The 1st of may was usually a spring day, one where the neighbours complained about not being allowed to work on their gardens. Today, however, Isak was freezing half to death in Eskild’s ex-boyfriend’s shirt and his own denim jacket.

 _Jonas_  
_“Happy workers day! Ready for the parade?”_  
_“Riiight... Any plans for tonight?”  
“Meeting up with some people at Kuba. Be there!”_

Of course Jonas would insist on hanging out in a park. Because that’s what they had done last year. And the year before. Which meant that it had become one of the things they just did. 

 _Even_  
_Even: “I didn’t ask about that split lip of yours”_  
_You: “I know. Why are you asking now.”_  
_Even: “Don’t know. You really going to church atm?”_  
_You: “Mhm.”_  
_Even: “Felt bad for not bringing it up. You ok?”_  
_You: “Bruise? Yeah. You should have seen the other guy etc etc”_  
_Even: “Sorry. Won’t dig. Plans for tonight?”  
You: “Might head over to Kuba in the evening. Depends. Idk.”_

***

“Isak! How are you?” Without warning, his mum was hugging his from the back, her weight pressing down a bit too heavy, her arms tightly wrapped around his body. “Who’s Even, a new friend?”

“Just a guy from school. He was asking about homework. Can I just…” And he got up. Wiped the pollen off of his trousers, and gave her a hug. A real one this time, a bit too long. The perfume she always used didn't quite cover the smell of unwashed hair, but it still reminded him of home. Lily of the valley mixed with dirt. “Missed you. How are you holding up on your own?”

“I’m doing fine, Isak. You shouldn’t worry.” The reply could be an automatic one, but it didn’t seem like it. She really did look fine. Calm, if a little distant, and although it was obvious that she hadn’t showered for a while, she looked nice. She always made an effort on Sundays.

"You, on the other hand. What happened to your face? You haven't been fighting, have you?"

"Of course not." Shit. He had forgotten all about his lip. He hadn't looked into a mirror for days. "Hehe. Me, fighting? I wouldn't last a minute. I just fell off my bike. There was a patch of ice that I didn't spot. Spring, you know..."

Judging by the way she was looking at him, she believed him 

"Just like you. Always so eager. Wearing tee shirts if there's a sunny day in February." She sighed. "But I did the same when I was sixteen - lived for the future and not the present." For a short moment she looked sad, then the smile was back. "Time to get in. Don’t want anyone to take all the good seats, right?”

As always, the church was almost empty. When Isak was a kid, its plainness had bored him. He had used to count the churchgoers to make time go by faster, but even on a good day, there were rarely more than ten people in the room. Now, however, the lack of distractions calmed him. Just the blue and pink light shining through the stained glass windows, and his mother’s hand clutching his. Sometimes so hard it almost hurt. Sometimes limp.

But throughout the service, she was holding Isak's hand, as if her hand belonged in his. As if he had never left her. Because she didn’t know _why_ he had left her. She was holding on to a version of Isak that only existed in her imagination.

***

The walk home felt both longer and shorter than it usually did.

Shorter, because Isak really didn’t know what to expect when they arrived. When he had left, it had been on a whim. He hadn’t brought clothes, and he hadn’t considered the consequences. Isak had been gone for nine days now, and although his mum really had been doing better recently, a lot could have happened in nine days.

The walk felt too long because his mother had started to seem tired, because the conversation didn’t flow as effortlessly as it had when they first met, as if they had both memorized a script but only now realized that it didn’t cover the whole scene.

As if by instinct, Isak filled the void with words. Invented stories about his dad, about what they had for dinner the day before, and how Lea was doing in school. Mundane, everyday topics. Still, he could feel her drifting away, one ear listening to something Isak couldn’t hear.

But it didn’t matter how he felt about it. Isak needed books and clothes and to get access to his bank account. His computer was a borrowed one, and after a week of claiming that he had forgotten it, the teachers were getting suspicious.

Also, he needed to assess the damage.  

***

But there was no damage. The kitchen had already developed a stale smell, but the state of the house was better than expected. It wasn't clean, but there wasn't much mess either. No piles of clothes, no unopened mail. Her pill organizer was on the counter. All slots were empty, except the one for Sunday night. It was all in order. She had refilled it herself, taken every pill. She had managed without him. She had managed well enough.

“Why don’t you go get a shower, mum, and I’ll fix us something to eat”

Isak had turned on the radio, but the radio station focused on workers day. There was a risk of it being upsetting, so he rather dug through her pile of cd’s and put on one that he knew she liked. Not a religious one, just one that was nice.

Fortunately, there was still a fish gratin in the freezer and there were carrots in the fridge, and while she was showering, he quickly filled the dishwasher, aired out the rooms, swept the floors and took out the trash. Of course she had forgotten to roll out the trash bin for collection last Tuesday. He should have reminded her.

They didn’t speak much while eating. Just nonsense about school. About the coming exams. About how Jonas was doing. Isak did most of the talking. Tried to keep her attention. Normally, this state was the easiest to handle, where she was with him, but not intensely so. Where she smiled, sometimes as a reaction to something Isak couldn’t hear, but mostly in response to what he was saying.

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. But Isak could feel the sad, heavy feeling grow every minute he was in the house. Every time he said something, and he could see her eyes glaze over, proving that she hadn’t been able to pay attention, he was reminded of the fact that even when they were together, she could not really see him.

Although he had planned to take a shower after dinner - he knew well that he needed it as much as she had - Isak went to his old room. Took one shaky breath before stuffing as many clothes as he could fit into his backpack. Made a mental note to remind her to fill the pill organizer, and to call her about the trash bin next week.

As an afterthought, he fished out half a bottle of vodka from his sock drawer. There. Nothing of importance was left behind.

***

He hugged her for a long time, knowing far too well that he wouldn’t be back next week, or the week after. She grabbed one of her own scarves, a big and fluffy purple one that still carried a hint of her perfume and wrapped it around his neck. 

"No need to catch a cold, even though you are sixteen."

And Isak felt his throat go thick. It would have been easier if he hadn't come here, if he had just snuck in at night to fetch his stuff. As it was, he couldn't look her in the eyes for fear of tearing up. 

“I’ll make sure to stay in touch, yeah?"   

“I’m fine, Isak. I’m fine. Say hi to your father for me.”

"Yeah. I will."

And every step he took towards the bus made the decision feel more final. She was fine on her own. She didn’t need him now. Maybe she had never needed him, and he wouldn’t return to her. He would send her messages on her birthday and call her on the national day, but they would never live together.

Last week had been a break. This was goodbye.

***

 _Jonas  
_ _You: “Be there in 20”_

And although Even hadn’t answered his last text, he quickly typed one for him too.

 _Even  
_ _You: “Most def going to Kuba. Join me if you want.”_


	11. Sunday. 01. May 2016. 18:35.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drinking in the park with the boys.  
> Smoking in the churchyard with Even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. I don't get to update as often as I would want to. I'm just swamped in work at the mo and what little writing I end up doing is on the bus on my way to and from work. Rest assured, I will not abandon this fic, but I do have a couple of stressful weeks in front of me, which means that the updates won't be as frequent as before. On a lighter note, this chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones.
> 
> Also. Urban dictionary claimed nach translates to postgame, but as I've never seen that used before, I just stuck with the Norwegian word. People use norwegianisms all the time in this fandom, so what the hell.
> 
> In case you forgot: Earlier on this day, Isak visited his mother, said his goodbyes and went to drink with the boys in the park. We pick up just as he arrives.

As Isak threw himself down on the blanket, Jonas grinned at him  
“Hey, traitor”  
“Pff. Traitor? I had to see my mum, alright.”  
“But you see her every day. You could have just brought her to the parade.”  
Isak laughed.  
“Not bloody likely. Not all parents are like yours, Jonas.”  
“My mum was working, actually. I ended up just hanging out with Magnus.”  
“Yeah. Whatever. Can I bum a beer?”  
“Noob. You didn’t come prepared?”  
“Bro. Seriously. I had to go to _church_ ” Isak groaned.

By the look of him, Magnus was about to say something snarky, but Jonas shot him down with a look.

In the end, Isak did get a beer, although Jonas didn’t want any of the vodka in return. But the vodka and sprite combo he had mixed up so as to not be obviously drinking in public wasn’t that bad. It tasted like being fifteen and it was easy to drink. And Isak needed alcohol today. Needed anything that could chase this feeling.

It was one of those days where a little just wouldn’t be enough. Where he wanted to drink more in order to be drunker, where he wanted to sit closer in order to feel more connected. To Magnus, who was still embarrassingly eager to please and Jonas, who was in the middle of telling yet another story of something he had experienced when they were not around, this time on a date with Isabel.

“... and we ordered food, right, and it was like way too expensive, but anyway. I looked up, and it turned out that the waitress was that tinder-date I had just after Christmas. So I got really stressed out, right? And so I started babbling...”

Yeah. Isak needed alcohol. But more than anything he needed to be here, talking aimlessly with Jonas and Magnus. People he liked.

On his back on the stained duvet covers that served as blankets, Isak didn’t feel like he had ran away. It felt like he had left in order to find something. Friendship, community. Whatever it was, he had it.

At least for a moment.

***

Something changed when Jonas’ new friend arrived. Until now, Mahdi had only been an idea in Isak’s mind. A vague threat. But when he arrived in the flesh, ignoring both Isak and Magnus and in course of mere seconds managing grab all of Jonas’ attention, it was starting to get uncomfortable.

Although Mahdi had made no attempts at talking to him, Isak stretched out his hand. But Mahdis hands were busy. Juggling a Børek in one hand and a beer in the other. He just nodded. Quickly said his name before once more directing his attention at Jonas.

Apparently the two of them had started to go to the gym together, and they were discussing it eagerly.  
“I didn’t know you worked out” Isak asked, then cursed himself for letting Mahdi know that there were parts of Jonas’ life that he had no knowledge of.  
“Just started last week. Bought a gym membership and everything, me and Mahdi.”  
“But why?” Isak implored. “You always said that skateboarding was all the exercise you need. That and biking. You seriously go to the gym now?”  
Jonas nodded.  
“Yeah. You can join us if you want to. No need to bitch about it.”  
“But you always said it was pointless? You used to say that people who spend their lives…”  
“People change Isak. Just deal with it. “

And Isak dealt with it. Shut his hole and pointedly turned towards Magnus. Joked. Tried to give the impression that talking to Magnus was all he wanted - but he couldn’t help listening in on the others as their conversation moved on. From workouts to politics and then to a tv show that Isak hadn’t seen.

If the basement had only had a working wifi connection, he could have joined the conversation. Now he wouldn’t even be able to catch up later. Until now, the fact that Mahdi’s existed had filled Isak with that sore feeling of possibly being left out some time in the future. But now it was already happening. Jonas was slipping away, and Isak didn’t have any way of halting the process.

Then Isabel arrived, and Isak might as well have been invisible.

Because Jonas and Isabel were kissing. Eagerly, hungrily, and it was clear that Isak and the others had all ceased to exist. There was something about the way Jonas looked at the girls he was interested in, as if they were a drug he was addicted to, or something he had been waiting for his whole life. Like they were all that mattered. Like there were no other people in the room.

Nobody had ever looked at Isak like he mattered that much to them.

Without thinking, he checked out his phone. No new messages from Even. Of course he wouldn’t be coming. Part of him was disappointed. Part of him had never expected it. And a small part of him was relieved that Even wouldn’t suddenly show up and see him being so obviously neglected by his friends.

“Are anyone hosting a nach?” Isak asked restlessly. But everybody just looked at him as if he was talking crazy.  
“I don’t know, Isak” Jonas hesitated. “Tomorrow is a school day and all. Think I’m just going to walk Isabel home.”

As if Isak’s words had spurred him to action, Jonas got up. And as he and Isabel walked towards the river, arms around each other’s backs, occasionally stopping to kiss, it was just too obvious that the night was over. That Isak was left with Mahdi, who didn’t seem to care about him at all, and Magnus, who was unable to pretend that he wasn’t all too disappointed that Jonas had left.

“If there’s no nach, I guess I’m bailing.” Isak got up, just waved a quick goodbye and left without looking back. He walked quickly in the opposite direction, and rather than reacting when Magnus protested that they had all left him with Jonas’ duvet covers, Isak put his plugs in his ears and filled his head with music.

Music was a luxury these days, but right now his phone was almost fully charged. He could build himself up. Feel like he was someone else. And with his hands deep in his pockets, eyes on the ground, he walked towards the edge of the park.

 _“There's no fessing or guessing while I'm expressing myself._  
_It's crazy to see people be What society wants them to be, but not me”_

Suddenly he could feel a heavy hand grabbing his shoulder. Fuck. Isak shrank away. Turned around and pushed the other guy away. When he looked up, he could see Even who was laughing at his disproportionate reaction. His mouth was forming words that Isak couldn’t hear.

As Isak pulled the plugs from his ears, he could finally hear his voice, midsentence, halfway out of breath.  
“.... but you just had to walk so damned fast”  
“Uh, what? I didn’t think you were coming?”  
“Oh. I came.”  
“Are you listening to anything good?”  
"Eh. Express yourself. N.W.A."  
Without asking, Even grabbed one of the plugs, put it into his left ear. 

“Let’s listen together as I walk you home.”  
Home. That could pose a problem.  
“I’m not going home. I’m on my way to find something to eat. I had a lot to drink, so…”  
“Alright. I’ll walk you to wherever you are going then, if that’s ok with you?”  
And with that, they started walking.  
  
“Trust you’ve had a good day?” Even asked, as the music resumed.  
“Yeah. Today has been great.”

 _“Yeah, they want reality, but you will hear none_  
_They'd rather exaggerate a little fiction“_

Although the conversation was a slow starter, at least they had the music in their ears to fall back on. They walked slowly, maybe they both wanted to stretch out time. Linked together by the earplugs they had to walk so close to each other that their hands touched. Oddly intimate for two almost-strangers, but not bad. Definitely not bad.

 _“And the knowledge is growing just like a fetus_  
_Or a tumor, but here is the rumor“_

***

Even threw away the wrapping paper of his falafel. He had taken Isak’s friendly teasing about his choice of fast food in stride, but now they had both finished, and it was ten o’clock and definitely time to go home.

“Guess I better…”  
“Where would be a fun place to share a joint?”  
“I don’t know. It’s not like… something that’s constantly on my mind, you know.”  
“Hey come on. There must be somewhere”?  
“No. I don’t know. I just moved down to the city center, I haven’t..”  
“Rivers? The columns behind the library? We can take the bus to the botanical garden? Anywhere. We can do anything.”  
“And be caught, yeah.”  
“What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll pay the fine if you get one.”  
“That they will involve my parents, obviously.”

Isak the nerd had resurfaced, but right now Isak didn’t have the energy to push that part of him back under the surface. He had left his mother today. For real. And he wasn’t going to have to go home because of some misdemeanor.  
“It won’t happen, though. The police has other things on their minds tonight.”

They ended up in the churchyard behind the library. Cloaked in darkness, sitting on their jackets with their backs against a tree, shoulder to shoulder. Neither of them mentioning the fact that the ground was moist and muddy and probably soiled their jackets.

“The reason why I don’t want to smoke in public today...  
“I’m not trying to force you. ”  
“No. I know. I just. I sort of ran away from home.”  
“Sort of?”  
“Yeah. I’m staying with a friend for a while. It’s just. Kind of heavy at the moment, and I needed a break. And it’s not like my parents have noticed it. Just. It would suck so hard to return in the back of a police car, you know?” Isak couldn’t see Even nodding, but he could feel Even’s shoulders rocking back and forth.  
“No big deal, though. I just needed a break.”

“I tend to save my weed for special occasions, though.” Even said, his voice mock serious.  
“Let me guess” Isak smiled “Every day is a special occasion? What about yesterday?”  
“Yesterday, I got my phone back. Also I seem to remember that you were the one who asked for that joint.”  
“I needed it to survive that Seinfeld shit. And today, why is today special?”  
“Workers day, of course. What else?”

“Seriously. Even. That ‘special occasions’-stuff is bullshit. I could smell it on your jacket that day in the shop.”  
“What? You go around sniffing people’s clothes?” Even laughed as he said it, but something had come into his voice that hadn’t been there before.  
“I don’t! I could smell you from afar. You practically reeked of it.”

“Yeah right. You just wanted to bury your face in my jacket, just admit it. Come here” And, still laughing, Even threw his arm around Isak, pulled him towards him, and they play-wrestled in the muddy grass. Even quickly got the upper hand, though, and Isak found himself with his face actually buried in his soft, grey hoodie. Yeah. He still smelled nice. Really nice.

“So. How is it? Good experience?”  
“Awful, seriously. Why would I want to smell your sweaty clothes?”  
But rather than keeping up the banter, Even grew quiet. Isak could feel his chest expanding, and how the exhale betrayed how shaky that breath really had been. Even’s heart was beating a bit too fast. Yet Isak could feel himself relaxing. Enjoying this one short moment of closeness. He was close enough to feel Even’s heartbeat, for fuck’s sake. 

“Anyway. That too was a special occasion.” Even said, his voice even deeper when filtrated through his chest. “I got to hang out with you.”

And on that note, Even finally lit the joint. Inhaled deeply.  
“Sure you don’t want any?”   
“Ah. All right then. Give it here.”

And for a while, neither of them spoke. 

Isak didn't speak because he couldn’t. Because there was no way his voice wouldn’t betray him. Because he knew that if he said anything at all, the spell would be broken and he would have to keep up this charade, pull away, act like he’d rather lean his back against a cold tree trunk, that lay here with his ear pressed against Even’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Song](https://www.lyreka.com/song/nwa-express-yourself-lyrics/)


	12. Tuesday. 03. May 2016. 18:18.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak and Even meet in mcDonalds. Make plands and makes shit more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't smooth. Wasn't supposed to be smooth either,. I did want it to pull in every direction, but I hope it doesn't confuse you.
> 
> Oh. Yeah. Found the movie program for Oslo for this specific date. Aren't you proud of me?

_15:15_

_Even: “I have your sweater”_

_You: “You have my sweater”_

 

_16:16_

_Even: “Guess you want it back”_

_You: “Kind of do.”_

 

_17:17_

_Even: “Where are you? I can drop it off now if you want?”_

_You: “Just doing homework. McDonald's in Storgata.”_

_You: “Have something I want to ask you btw”_

 

The constantly overfilled and slightly dirty McDonald's had become Isak’s favourite place to study. An unforeseen part of living in the basement, was the fact that he had to spend most of his days outdoors. Outdoors usually meant right here, at this table in the corner of the upper floor. He was banned from bars because of his age, and he had shied away from cafés after repeatedly bumping into people from school, which had been nice, but not conducive to studying. At least this McDonald's was almost devoid of familiar faces, as long as he stayed clear of the ground floor.

Not right now, though. Even was walking slowly upstairs, coffee and a donut in hand, eyes searching the room. When he finally spotted Isak, his face opened up into one of those wide smiles that Isak had started to grow fond of. The ones that made it feel like he was genuinely happy to see him. Isak felt his hand wave, felt the corner of his mouth form a smile. It was as if his own body reacted without consulting his brain.

He should be stressed out. Should try to remind himself that this guy was here to give him his sweater. The white woollen one that he really needed now that spring had once more returned to something reminding of winter. But sunday night had felt so normal. So peaceful, and the memory of the two of them rolling around in the muddy grass was hard to chase.  

“Nice office you’ve got here.” Even gestured towards the rather loud teenagers listening to music in the so called family corner. Nice and peaceful.

“Yeah, flashy, right? And the coffee even gets you a complimentary ice cream.”

“At least now I know you eat well.”

“Hey. No mocking.”

“I would never mock you” And he smiled, gentler this time.

“But I actually am studying, you know. This is like… my study place. I go here almost every day.”

“What about your friend’s place?”

“Eh. He lives in a collective, and there’s just so many people around. And I don’t want them to get sick of me, so… yeah."

“Weirdly enough, I’ve gotten a lot more done after I moved out." Isak continued. "I mean. Eh. With my mum, you never know what to expect. So there were days where I felt more like a nanny, you know”

Suddenly he stopped. Realizing what he had just said. That he had probably said too much, and that he was already breaking the promise of not referring to whatever even had read on his phone, he added. “Also. I don’t have an xbox or even wifi where I live now, so there aren’t as many distractions. Which is good I guess.”

That damned inner pressure. This is why he never spoke of personal shit. Once he said one word, a string of other words came rushing out.  

“Like… you were always alert? Like… worrying what she would do next?

“Yeah. Something like that. Her mood isn’t all that stable, you know. So… it’s like. I don’t know. I could never trust that a good day actually was good, you know?”

“Constant vigilance.”

“Harry Potter? Seriously? Em. Not like that though. She’s not the Dark Lord, she’s just… not… you know”

“But it’s the whole future-thing, right? Never really given it much thought before. I always just thought that I’d leave Oslo as fast as I could. Do my military service somewhere far away and that I’d figure it out as I went along. But moving out just made everything feel more real. That now that I’m on my own, when I for once only have myself to take care of, maybe I can make something out if it, you know?”

“I’m sure you can” Even said. Smiled, but not as widely as before.

But Isak knew it was the truth.

Before, he’d been giving out vague answers when people asked about his future: “Something that allows me to travel”, or “Pathologists look bad ass on TV” or “Wonder if I’d be able to get into the police academy.” None of those answers had been based on actual dreams. When asked, he had always mentioned something that either _sounded_ like a dream, or, as was the case with the police academy, was famously hard to achieve.  

For Isak, the future had always been about next week. Tomorrow. Next minute. It had been about trying to be happy right now, and about what he would do when the shit hit the fan. Most of him had been centered on the present. He could deal with the present. He could kiss a girl right now, and earn respect from the guys the next minute. He could smoke a joint and feel good for an hour. And when things go too much, he had always had his homework to fall back on.

“What about you? What are your plans?”

“I don’t know.” Even replied, this time his smile failed to reach his eyes.

“Guess we have that in common, then”

“Nah. You’re making plans, Isak. For me it’s the whole matter of The Future that is the problem. I used to have really big plans. But right now, It’s kind of hard to think that far into the future.”

“Why?”

“Eh. You know how they tell you that when you make plans with someone, that you shouldn’t make plans further into the future than you have already known each other? Like.. I’ve known you for about a week. So we can make plans for next Fiday, but not for next month.”

“Do you _want_ to make plans for next friday?” Isak interrupted. More eagerly than he had wanted to.

“What? Eh. sure?” 

“We could maybe… go see a film or something? Your pick?”

Even looked flustered. Or maybe he was just confused about the suggestion. Maybe Isak was just being too much again. Or projecting. Or sounding like he wanted to go on a date. Which he wasn’t.

“But. The future. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Future. Yeah. You read my jodel stuff.” He waited until Isak nodded in response before continuing. “I’ve only felt like myself for about a month now. In about a month, there’s exams and everything. The plans I’m making right now is to maybe pass most of my exams. What happens after that just… depends on how that goes I guess? I don’t even know if I’ll have to retake the third year or not.” Isak didn’t really know how to respond to that. Just nodded, and finally mustered a weak reply.

“Ah. I see. I’m sure you will pass, through?”

“That’s the problem. You don’t know that. And neither do I. I can make plans for the next three weeks, but I can’t know for sure that I’ll be able to stick to them.”

“Oh. Eh. That sucks.”

“Yeah. It does.”

“With me it’s different, really. Homework has always been kind of fun? Or at least one of the things I could do without feeling selfish about it. If that makes sense? If I need some time to myself, and I play call of duty or watch a movie or whatever, it would feel like something I really shouldn’t do. Like. I should try to be more responsible. You know ‘Isak, your could at least try to take _some_ responsibility now that your mother is sick’. Stuff like that. But if I was doing homework, they would leave me to it. It’s always been like... a good thing”

“So you’re really good at it then?”

“Yeah. I’m the school master. Except for languages.“ Isak smacked his English book closed. “I fucking _suck_ at it. Two more months, and I never have to think of English again.”

“What, really? You’re quitting English, of all things? And what? Are you seriously a first year?”

“Eh. Yeah. First year. And I’m totally quitting English.”

“If you need any help, just ask me, ok?”

“I thought you said you were failing all of your classes?”

“No. I said I was trying to _pass_ most of my classes. And I happen to be pretty good at English. And Norwegian. And Psychology. Don’t ever ask about art history, though.”

“I wouldn’t _ever_ ask _anyone_ about art history. Don’t worry about it.”

Even took a sip of his coffee, and started eating his donut quietly. Suddenly he nodded towards the chair behind Isak.

“We’re really stepping up the whole matching jacket game, huh?”

Isak hadn’t noticed it before. Had been too focused on his smile. But he was right. They actually did wear almost identical jackets. 

“They aren’t _that_ similar, though, Mine is green. But heh. The other one was _really_ muddy. ” Just the thought if it made Isak's cheeks heat up. 

“No shit." Even laughed. I was so muddy when I came home, even my underwear was soiled. I showered like three times, but I’m still scratching sand out of my hair.”

“Yeah. Me too.” That wasn’t quite the case, though. No showering until gym class tomorrow. Isak had been standing crouched over the sink in the laundry room, doing his best to wash his hair under the tap.

“I only have this one pair of shoes, so.” Isak lifted his mucky shoes so Even could see. “Pretty bad, eh? But it’s ok. It was totally worth it.”

“Yeah? It was?”

“Yeah”.   

“But you were going to ask me about something?”

“Eh. Yeah. Which movie should we watch on Friday?”

“I don’t know. What would you like?”

“Don’t know? As long as it’s not a chick-flick, i’m good.”

“Is ‘Carol’ a chick flick?”

“Sounds like it, yeah”

“Bugger. I’ve been wanting to see that one. No romance at all,then?

“No romance.”

“Then maybe… The Revenant, if you haven’t already seen it? Or maybe Captain America: civil war? “

“The Revenant or Captain America, then. Have you seriously memorised everything that’s on?”

“Of course. The Jungle Book. Kung Fu Panda 3. Marnie My Secret Friend - that’s an anime. Then there’s The French Connection” Isak made a face based on the title. He hadn’t even heard of the movie, but already knew he was never going to want to watch it.

“It’s not a romance movie. Seriously. It’s a remake of a… ah nevermind. Maybe How to be Single’, is more up your alley, then?”.

“I know everything there is to know about that. But hells no. Sounds like a rom-com. And a chick-flick. No fucking way. I’ve made my choice.”

“The Revenant or Captain America, then.”

“Yeah.”

“But actually. Eh. I did have another thing I wanted to ask… like. What I originally wanted to ask you about.”

Even looked at him, with a kind of weird anticipation that really didn’t fit the situation.

“I wonder if. Maybe. Uh.”

“Yes?” 

“Your shit is really good. I wonder if maybe you could set me up with your guy.”

Suddenly Even’s face fell. No trace of a smile at all.

“Oh. Eh. Sure. I guess I could do that. Was that all?“

“Yeah. That’s all. At least as long as I get that sweater.”

For some reason, Even left soon after. But at least they were going to see a movie. Together.


	13. Wednesday. 04. May 2016. 08:13-11:45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small scenes. Even-gazing. The boys. Magnus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one today. Hard to resist writing, although i really have shit to do.
> 
> Eta: Improved bad English.

The bus stopped before the zebra crossing, waiting for the lights to shift, and Isak was startled as he noticed Even, a smoke in his hand, leaning against the grey wall of the school building on the side of the road.

Isak had never seen him being alone before. With the exception of that one time in the shop in the morning, he had never seen Even relate to anyone but himself, had only seen how he looked when it was Isak he was looking at. When he knew that he was being watched by Isak.

When the two of them were together, every facial expression of his was pure communication. Every flicker of his eye, every movement of his mouth. When they were together, Even had the most expressive face Isak had ever seen.

But they weren’t talking now, and this was a different Even, one that Isak almost didn’t recognize. He was alone. A swarm of students were walking past him, but rather than looking them in the eye, he was leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. Nobody waved as they walked by, and Even greeted no one.

He was beautiful. There was no way Even could avoid looking good, but when he wasn’t talking to anyone, when his face was at rest, it expressed nothing.

And as the lights shifted and the bus started to move, Even used his shoulders to push away from the wall. Tossed his fag on the pavement and put it out with the sole of this shoe.

His next action, whether is was unconscious or willed, was one that Isak was all too familiar with. He could relate to it in an almost physical way as Even took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then exhaled quickly, put his hands in his pockets and quickly walked towards the entrance, eyes fixed on the ground.

It felt like looking in the mirror.

***

Isak spent his break in the library. Partly studying. Mostly trying to come up with something interesting to say to Even. Something that told him that he knew what it was like to have a place that you hated but couldn’t escape. Something that made him seem less self centered.

In the end he settled for asking which movie Even had decided upon. The reply came quickly.

_10:10  
_ _Even: You’ll see._

***

“Hey Boys” Isak said happily as a threw his backpack on the floor. Mahdi had joined them at the lunch table, but it wasn’t bad. Yes, he was still mostly talking to Jonas, but right now it was all right. Isak had news.

“I have news!”

As Jonas looked towards him, the others stopped chattering.

“Yeah? Spill it.”

“A friend of mine has the best shit I have ever tasted, and he promised to set us up with his... guy.”

“Shh. Quiet” Mahdi whispered, then looked at Jonas, as if Jonas was still the leading man of this operation. As if Isak wasn’t the one who had finally got them a deal. “That’s great, Isak. But how do you know this guy? Is he trustworthy?”

“Eh yeah. I think so? We hung out after you guys left on the first of May.

“After you left, you mean”, Magnus interrupted.

“After the two of you left me and Magnus to pick up the trash.” Mahdi added.

“Yeah whatever.”

“Your loss, mate.” grinned Magnus. “We met some russegirls who helped us finish that vodka of yours. Me and Mahdi had best night ever.”

“...And the worst morning after”, added Mahdi. Obviously the two of them had bonded after Isak left. Great.

“After _Jonas_ left, then, but never mind, that’s not important. Yeah, he seems trustworthy”

“What, you meet this guy one time, and you try to score weed from him?” said Mahdi, still not looking entirely convinced

“No no no. We’ve hung out before. I said he was my friend, didn’t I?”

Suddenly his phone went off in his pocket.

 

_11:43  
_ _Even: Came to think of something.  
_ _Even: You were afraid of being caught on Sunday, and that was just smoking.  
_ _Even: Are you sure you want to have your number stored in the phonebook of an actual dealer?  
_ _You: It's ok. We'll just give his number to one of my friends._

 

“Hey. Isak! You listening?”

“Huh, what? Sure.”

“Do you have this guy’s number?”

“No. He needed to talk to him first, like… recommend us. And anyway, I thought I would just set him up with you, Jonas? That was your plan to begin with, right?”

“I don’t know, Isak. I’d rather not be the one to do the actual calling, it’s a bit… what about you, Mahdi?”

“Why me? It’s way easier if you do it, Jonas. Seriously. You know I get way more police checks than you. We should get one of our blonde friends to do it.” He looked apprehensively at Isak and Magnus, as if he was looking for volunteers, but still didn't trust them.

 

_11:45  
_ _Even: Easier to have your own shit I guess._

 

Why was it so hard to type up a reply? Isak tried several ways of expressing his need for independence before finally settling on the easiest possible response.

 

 _11:46  
_ _You: Yeah.  
_ Even: _Easier to hang out with your friend too.  
_ _You: Rather than you, my not-friend, you mean?  
_ _Even Yeah  
_ _You: jk_

 

“So it’s set, then” Mahdi whispered. “We pay 300 each, Jonas only pays a hundred as he’s broke as fuck and as he’s the one who's talking the actual risk. We’re all in, then?”

Everyone nodded quietly.  

 

_11:48:  
_ _You: When can we set this up?  
_ _Even: Next time I talk to him.  
_ _You: Weekend?  
_ _Even: I don’t know Isak. Talk about it later, ok?_

***

Magnus caught up with Isak on his way to Norwegian class.

“Ready for midterms on Monday?”

“Yeah. I guess....”

“Hey, so you found youself a nach after all?”

“Not really, no.”

“But where did you meet this guy?”

“Just outside the park, Magnus. I had asked him to come and hang out with us, and he came.”

“So he waited until you were alone rather than just walking up to us and say hello?”

“No. No he didn’t. He just happened to arrive when I left.”

“Oh, by coincidence. Just when Jonas left”

“Yeah, when Jonas left and the two of you decided that the night was already over, I left to hang out with someone else, that’s right.”

Magnus stopped talking long before they reached the classroom.


	14. Thursday. 05. May 2016. 19:10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak eats at Eskild's place.  
> They talk. About stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work got the best of me last week, and I was unable to update, which sucks when all I really wanted to do was write. And when I finally got my life back on friday, it took me a while to get the flow going. Most of this chapter is written on my phone. Phone-writing is great for seeing details, but awful of what you need is to get an overview of the text.
> 
> I realize that this fic is becoming more and more heavy on the dialogue. The reason is that I am trying to learn how to write dialogue that flows organically. To learn it by doing it, that is. Please tell me if it works, or if it gets muddled and chaotic. 
> 
> During this absence, I felt bad for not being able to tell people that the fic in fact was alive. Therefore, I’ve reactivated my dead, old and not at all skam-related tumblr in order to make me able to tell people the next time I’m late: [grensevokter.tumblr.com](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/grensevokter)

“Hey, Eskild. I borrowed some shampoo, if that’s ok.” As Isak walked into the kitchen, the smell of dinner in the making was fighting a losing battle with the strong scent of artificial vanilla, and the table was already set. It felt like someone’s home, and it most definitely felt like Isak was imposing.

“Oh yeah, and I washed some of the clothes I borrowed, so you can have them back... the Jesus thing isn’t really me, so...” Isak gestured towards the plastic bag on the floor. “Anyway, I better head back down.”

As Eskild turned around, It was obvious that he wasn’t his usual chirpy self. He seemed tired. Kind of stretched out. Standing at the counter, halfway into the process of grating an insane amount of carrots, he looked a bit lost.  

“Aren’t you staying for dinner?” Eskild wasn’t even trying to hide his disappointment. “You can if you want to, it won’t be any hassle, I mean. There’s enough fish gratin for two, so…”

“I thought you were expecting guests, what with the scented candles and all.”

“Isak. Don’t mock a guy for trying to be nice to the less fortunate.”

“If you’re talking about me, I’m not too proud to accept charity, even in the form of fish gratin.”

No. He had never been too proud to accept charity. Not from Jonas. Not from Eskild. Not from anyone. Never. It was the shameful truth, but at least it _sounded_ like a joke. And judging by Eskild’s mock-offended expression, it was read as enough of a joke to clear the air.

“No need to be mean, Isak. I offer to feed you, not pamper you. And I have never claimed to be much of a cook. I warned you the last time.”

“Last time you fed the stray, huh? But seriously. The stray has eaten cheese burgers for a week now. Fish gratin sounds perfect. And you’ve boiled potatoes and everything. That’s pretty… advanced isn’t it? I never bother about potatoes.”

“Noora. You should thank her, not me.” Isak flinched at the mention of her name, and Eskild quickly added that there was no need to worry. “She’s with one of her _friends_. She has no idea that she gave us the gift of potatoes.”

“She really isn’t around much, is she? What about your other flatmate?” At the mention of his cohabitants, Eskild sighed visibly.

“Visiting her parents somewhere in Vestfold. To be honest I wouldn’t mind some company at the moment.”

Hanging out with Eskild was nice. There was something about him that just made Isak relax, that made him speak more freely than what he normally did. This was only the third time the two of them had hung out, but for some reason it felt like they had known each other for years. After a while Isak stopped listening for Nooras steps in the hallway and just let himself enjoy the moment.

“Bad day?” Isak asked, hoping that Eskild would wave it off and claim it was nothing.  

“Not really. I just have my first exam next week. Classical sociological theory and modern society. Let’s just say that I’ve been focusing more on modern society than on Marx and Durkheim this semester.”

“Really? Shit, I hope it’s not because of me.“

“Hehe. You? I’m pretty sure that queer kids ran away from home in the 19th century too. Nothing modern about that, don’t worry.”

He laughed and ruffled Isaks hair affectionately. The realization that nobody had touched him at all since last Sunday made Isak resist the automatic urge to protest being labeled. Instead he looked at Eskild, waiting for him to continue:

“Nah. I’ve just been working too much. Temp agency, you know. Can’t just turn down work. And I did tell you about my new-ish boyfriend, right?”

“The guy who doesn’t fit into the clothes that your ex left?”

“Not the point. It’s more like... I met him because he was doing voluntary work for the refugees. Started as a pickup line, I guess, but in the end I’ve been working my arse off. You know the whole Refugees welcome to Norway-thing, right? Turns out there are a lot of queer refugees, and I guess I might be easier to trust than alot of other guys, if you know what I mean? Anyway. I’ve only been to about half of my lectures. But I won’t blame the refugees for that. You see Lito, he has the most magnificent dick.” 

At that point Isak stopped listening, and focused all his attention on his phone.

 

 _19:19_  
_Even: Got us tickets. I went with the worst of the movies, so we could bond over how awful it is._  
_You: Sounds good. You saw both of them already?_  
_Even: Nope. I just read the reviews. Meet me outside Saga around 5  
_ _You: Sure :)_

 

When Isak looked up from his phone, he found himself staring straight into Eskild’s questioning eyes

“Who’s that texting you? Is it that Chris-guy?”

“No. No one. Just a mate. And how do you know that it was Chris that I...”

“...because you told me? And for sure. Nobody use the phrase ‘just a friend’ if the person they are talking about is someone they actually want to continue to be just friends with.”

“I didn’t tell you, though? I... “ Isak interrupted, but Eskild just kept going.

“Also. You came here to shower today although I know for a _fact_ that you had gym yesterday. Also you smell nice. That mature cheese-thing you had going is _gone_. Is it the deodorant I gave you?”

“... yes? But I really just needed a shower. Those after gym showers don’t work very well. I just keep on sweating once I’m dressed. And what does showering have to to with Chris? Who I’m not texting by the way. Seriously. I need to know who told you. I never told _anyone_ , and if people are talking, then... “

Fuck, he was babbling. He should have known that people would be talking, that someone would have seen what happened behind the bus on that Friday night. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure Chris is fucking Eva these days.”

“The fuck now? Eva?” Eskild looked genuinely shocked. “He can’t be very good then, or she wouldn’t have asked if he was gay. Damn. Nobody tells me anything.”

Suddenly, Isak could hear his own heartbeat. He remembered all too clearly that time, a couple of weeks back, when Eva had tried to kiss him. How clearly she had let on that she at least _suspected_ something.

“Eh, what? Why would Eva ask you about… no. Never mind. I really don’t want to know. But she didn’t ask you about… you know...  me, right?”

“No, Isak. Of course she didn’t. Don’t be paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid. I just really need to know if people are talking about me.”

“Isak. Nobody are talking about you. And if they were, if what they were saying had a bit of truth in it. Would it really be the end of the world?”

“So they are talking?”

“Nobody are talking about you. Jeez... I just can’t believe Eva didn’t tell me she’s sleeping with Chris. She and Noora, they just… like I try to be nice. I try to be a good friend. But they only talk to me when they need my services, and then they disappear and It’s like I’m not even there anymore.”

“Eh. Need you for what kind of stuff?”

“You know. When they want me to seduce their friends? Or when they want to consult my gaydar about guys they apparantly are already sleeping with.”

Before Isak managed to come up with anything in response to that, Eskild looked at him again, sighed, and kept on talking.

“But who cares about them. You are the one who is actually here. And you combed your hair and everything. Come ooon. Tell me. Who’s the guy at the other end of the line.”

And for some reason, Eskild’s tirade had lowered Isak’s defences. Had made him a bit more willing to share. Only out of guilt, but still willing.

“Um. Erh. Maybe I have a… I might kind of… I think at least I have a... or maybe not. I’m going to see a movie. With someone. Tomorrow.”

“Is he pretty?”

“Hell yeah.” Isak was surprised by how easily those words left his mouth. “He’s the most beautiful person I have ever met. But it doesn’t matter. I think he doesn’t, um. He has nudes. Of girls. On his phone, so… yeah.”

“I see. But let’s focus on that word that starts with a D, that you oh so carefully avoided just a moment ago. You did get the impression that it’s a date, right?”

“Not really. It was I who invited _him_ , so it can be whatever. I mean. We do have a kind of good time when we hang out.” After a moment of silence, Isak added: “And he does know that I… like boys. But there’s a problem, see. He is, or he has been really depressed and such. So it probably wouldn’t be the best idea anyway.”

“Good kisser?”

“What?! No. Not like that. We haven’t. I told you I think he’s straight, didn’t I?”

“But. Isak. Signs. Body language. Surely you notice when someone likes you? When he looks at you. Do you get the impression that this guy - who said yes when a confirmed homosexual invited him to go see a movie on a friday night - do you get the impression that he _likes_ you?”

“Eskild. Can you please just… don’t use all those words. Seriously. I wish I never told you. And I have no idea of he likes me or not.”

Maybe he did know. That one muddy moment in the churchyard had felt pretty bloody intimate. Intimate enough that there was no way he would want to share it with Eskild.  

“I really don’t know. I’m not good at that kind of stuff. I mean. I kissed Chris, right? That pretty much proves that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“So you _did_ kiss Chris” Eskild looked so pleased that Isak couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah. I did. But don’t you _dare_ tell Eva about it.”

At that note, Isak decided to return to the basement. Eskild had a tendency to save the difficult stuff for the end, and this time Isak wanted to get out of there before the conversation moved on to his mother. He walked over to the door and started to pull his shoes on. He tried to save time by not lacing them open, but of course this backfired and ended up taking even longer.

“Hey. Before you leave.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking about something. You've been living down there for more than a week now. Maybe it’s time we call your parents?”

He should have left earlier. Should have declined the dinner invitation. Shouldn’t have been so desperate for a shower in the first place, that he ended up here. 

“What? No. No please. I visited my mum last Sunday. We went to church and everything. Everything’s allright. And I’m spending most of my time with Jonas anyway, so it’s not like I’m just sulking in the basement.”

“Isak”

“Eskild. I have my midterms next week. And you know. It’s just impossible for me to focus on school when I’m living with her. I mean. I’m doing really great now, and I think that if I just get two more weeks, then I’ll be able to get through this school year just fine. Please. You won’t even notice that I’m there. I just don’t want to have to take care of someone else right now. ”

For every lie he stacked upon another, Isak’s voice was trembling harder, but he needed to explain. Needed to convince Eskild to let him stay, and he really hoped to make him understand without explicitly telling him that he wouldn’t be going home anyway. Basement or no basement.    

“Good luck with that when you’re dating a severely depressed boy”

“Eskild? We’re not dating!”

“Hey. It’s ok. You can stay. But just for a couple of weeks, or until the police start looking for you, ok? Also. There’s no chance in hell that I’ll let you not be an inconvenience.”


	15. Friday. 06. May 2016. 17:10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the longest chapter so far, and I really do hope it was worth waiting for. I know I’m unreliable. I know I will keep on writing, but I also know that you don’t know that I will keep on writing. I know the people who read this fic might have given up by now, that most of you will have forgotten what the previous chapters were about. I know I do when writers don’t update for more than a month. But for those of you who are still around: thank you for still reading.
> 
> This chapter has been written and rewritten for half an eternity, and then I decided to just go with my initial instincts. And if it works, then it works, and if it doesn’t… then I guess I will have learned something. 
> 
> Also: Magnipagni and an anonymous lady from Jodel gave me a readthrough when I was stuck. I’m eternally grateful. Language issues are of course my own.

Outside Saga, Isak was pretending to be extremely interested in movie posters. Deeply interested. Passionate. Because his phone was dead and it was probably past five already and there was still no sign of Even. 

The rational part of his brain knew he had no reason to worry. Even hadn’t shown any sign that he wouldn’t show up, quite the opposite. But that same rationality also knew that it was Eskild’s incessant talk of dating the night before that made him worry. The eager, childish part of him had almost let himself be convinced, which again had made Isak spend most of the day worrying that once Even showed up, he would lose his cool completely.

He had been early, had been standing under the canopy for close to twenty minutes. If his phone had been operative, then at least he would have looked like a person who was _doing_ something, rather than an uncomfortable kid waiting for someone who probably wasn’t going to show. Also he was hungry. Someone nearby were eating something, and it smelled delicious.

“See anything of interest?” All of a sudden, Even was leaning against the wall next to him, a hot dog in one hand a coke in the other. He looked casual, grinning at Isak from underneath a red snapback, but he wasn’t dressed for the weather. A shirt was tied around his hips, and the skin on his t-shirt clad arms was covered in goosebumps.

“Just passing time, I guess. I’m ready. Aren’t you cold?”

“Not really, no. Your lip looks better.“ Even lifted his hand, and for a moment, Isak thought he was about to touch his lip, but of course that was reading too much into it. “Could you open my coke for me?” Even mumbled. “I’m sort of out of hands at the moment”. As Isak opened the bottle, he could feel his cheeks heating up. Damn. This was not playing it cool. Not at all. He took a sip from the bottle and handed it back to Even.

“There you go. Yeah, I’m all healed up. It doesn’t even hurt to smile now.” It took effort to not try and prove the point by smiling. Even more so to stifle that nervous laugh before it became audible.

“Phiew, that’s a relief. That whole trying to bore you-business got old pretty fast. How did your mother react to seeing that beat up face in church?”

“Nothing much. Told her I fell off my bike...”

“Then what about that other guy I should have seen? Didn’t think crashing into unsuspecting strangers was a habit of yours.”

“Pfft, not a chance. Also, you _really_ suck at pretending you don’t know about my family stuff.”

“Hey, it’s not _my_ fault that you like to talk about yourself. You’re like an open book, Isak. You don’t make it easy.”

At that Even bit into his hot dog, and all of a sudden his eyes grew wide, as if he suddenly remembered something.

“Oh fuck, you are hungry, aren’t you?” He asked before swallowing. “I tried to text you to see if you wanted to meet earlier and grab something to eat, but you didn’t respond, so...”

“My phone is dead. But. hot dog, really? I figured you were a vegetarian or something.”

“Me? Never.” Even laughed. “What if we just share this?” Even gestured with the hot dog ”and then we’ll fill the void with popcorn or something later?”

“What? You’re seriously offering to share your hot dog? That’s a first. Finish your food. I can just… have a sip of your coke or something.”

“I’m not _that_ hungry. Seriously, have a bite. Unless you’re germophobe of course.”

“Do I _look_ like a germophobe to you?”

“No. But to be honest you look pretty hungry. Hope you like bacon sausages.”

So Isak took a bite. Because what else could he do. At least this meant that he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of this being a date. At no time in history had any date ever included sharing a hot dog outside a cinema.

“No mustard and onions?”

Even looked flustered for a moment, then he laughed it off.

“While I normally share your passion for mustard and onions. I thought today might not be the day for that.”

As they were walking towards the kiosk, Isak realized that he had been worrying in vain. Now that he knew for sure that this was indeed not a date, Isak relaxed, talked about his week. About Magnus who had been picking his nose in class, all inconspicuous-like, only to be handed a note from Ingrid who he was secretly crushing on.

“And he was so flustered, that he just reached out for the note, and seriously, his hands were completely covered in bloody snot.”

Isak didn’t mind that he was falling into his old habit of telling other people’s stories rather than his own, and as long as Even was laughing along with him, he wasn’t even fazed by his inability to stop himself from laughing when delivering the punchline to the story.

As their laughter was beginning to fade, Even’s expression suddenly turned grave.

“I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve”

“What’s that?” Isak laughed. “That sounds like the start of one of those memes my grandma shares on facebook. But yeah. We’re pretty close, all of us.”

He could feel the bitter aftertaste of his own words. But he turned towards the shelves in the kiosk and pretended to search for a specific kind of chocolate. He could save Isak the loner for another day. Why tap into a reality where he always seemed to be too much, when he was here, with someone who made him feel like he was just right?

“You seriously are a barbarian when it comes to movies”, Even muttered behind him. “Seriously, the whole point of quoting shit is to be able to say profound stuff without looking like a pompous twat.”

“Doesn’t help much, if your quotes makes you sound like a pompous twat, though, does it?” Isak turned around again, just to make sure his words were taken in jest. But Even was still smiling. This was still banter.

“Anyway. The friends that you are talking about. That’s those guys, right?” Even nodded towards the entrance, where Jonas, Magnus and Mahdi were walking towards them. Deep in conversation, but definitely heading straight for the kiosk.

“Fuck my life” Isak muttered under his breath. “I need to get out of here.”

And without thinking, he grabbed the sleeve of Even’s jacket and pulled him towards the toilets behind the kiosk, past the sinks and into one of the stalls. Thank god for stalls that didn’t have that tell-tale gap underneath.

Only after did he realize that he had been acting out of panic. Only after did he realize how small these stalls really were, how close they were suddenly standing. Only after did he realize that this was the opposite of playing it cool.

“So. Here we are” Even said somberly.

“Yeah. Here we are.” Isak whispered back, quietly, although there were nobody around to hear them.

“Guess you must be up to some really shady business if you are this afraid of being found out.” Even’s voice was so low that it was barely audible, but Isak could still hear the undercurrents of laughter that almost, but not quite broke through.

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just that I’m supposed to be somewhere else right now, or I said I would be.”

“You think _you_ were supposed to be somewhere else? I’ll have you know that I was supposed to be out buying popcorn right now. Someone nicked my sausage.” Even let himself fall back against the wall, only to wince and grow rigid when the bare skin of his arms met the cold, grey marble.

“Fuck that’s cold,” Even laughed. Which made Isak follow suit, and for a moment this felt normal, like it should feel when two friends were experiencing something mildly absurd together.

But if their quiet laughter broke the tension, the conversation came to a quick end as the noise of a door opening and shutting was followed by the familiar sound of Mahdis laughter and Magnus eager voice, obviously delivering the punchline to one of his far fetched tales.

If Even’s gaze was intense out on the street, it was nothing compared to how intimidating it was to stand only inches away from him. Isak could feel Even’s breath on the skin of his face. They were standing so close that his now familiar smell, cleaner and soapier than before but still unmistakably Even’s own, seemed to be everywhere.

In any other situation, Isak would have cracked a joke to try and divert Even’s attention, or he would have taken a step back, would have created the distance he needed to be able to breathe. But the toilet seat was digging into the back of his knees. He was trapped. He had trapped himself, head tilted backwards, looking up at those eyes that seemed to be able to see everything. It felt too intimate.  

Enough so that Isak eventually looked away, fixed his gaze on Even’s neck, on the red patches that were forming on his pale skin.

The sound of Magnus and Mahdi peeing should have offered some much needed comic relief, but it didn’t. It just made the stall feel smaller, their breathing louder and less steady.

And to make the situation even more unbearable, Isak felt himself responding to the tension. If gym class in fifth grade had been an embarrassing place to get an involuntary hard on, it was nothing compared to how his body was betraying him right now.

Isak cursed his vanity that had made him put on his tightest pair of jeans, jeans that were now painfully tight, and looked down to try and see if he was actually showing. But all he could see was Even’s hands who were in the process of tying his shirt even tighter around his own hips. Pulling hard on the sleeves as if he too had something he wanted to hide.

And maybe he had. As Isak looked up, Even’s eyes were closing as he turned away from him. He was biting his lip in what looked like an attempt at hiding an embarrassed half-smile. Signs that Isak recognised, but still didn’t dare to read for fear of misinterpretation.

But his own heartbeats he could feel. In his ears, in his chest and in his groin. Had to focus all his energy on not letting on that he was trembling, opened his mouth slightly so his teeth wouldn’t chatter. He knew how obvious he was. But he couldn’t will his body into submission. Couldn’t stop his ragged breath, couldn’t even stop his shoulders from shivering. If Even could see at all, he would be able to see right through him. And maybe that was why he was still facing the wall. Maybe that was why he still chose to look away.

Suddenly the sound of the automatic paper towel dispenser announced that Mahdi and Magnus were done peeing. Rather than leave, Mahdi raised his voice, probably to drown out the noise from the running tap.

“What’s up with that Isak guy anyway” Mahdi sounded as if he spoke of something confidential, but Isak could hear every syllable clearly.

“What do you mean ‘what’s up’?” Magnus sounded vaguely annoyed. “So he didn’t have the time to hang out tonight? It’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

“Kind of is to Jonas, though. Not that I know why he cares so much. All I’ve ever seen Isak do is whining and bragging.”

“...and you have known him for, what, a week? Cut the guy some slack.”

“Thought maybe he was grounded after that fight they were in, what with him having to head straight home all the time.”

At this, Even wasn’t staring at the wall anymore.

“They don’t know?” he mouthed at him. And Isak shook his head. No, they didn’t know that he had moved out. They didn’t know anything. And he really wished they would stop talking before they proved once and for all that for friends, they weren’t close at all.

“I’m just sick of Jonas constantly fuzzing over it. I mean, when Isak said he had been to church the other day, Jonas reacted as if he had been to a funeral. I go to church with my mum every fucking Sunday, and nobody asks _me_ how I’m doing”

“Seriously? Every Sunday? Shit, how do you do that?”

“A for effort, Magnus. But sure. Why do you think I always want to hang out on Sundays? It’s because I’m already in town with nothing to do.”

“Mahdi. I’ve known you for two weeks. How was I supposed to know? And maybe Jonas is making a fuzz because Isak really isn’t the churchgoing type. He hates religion, like really hates it.”

Next time Mahdi spoke, Isak could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“You just make me like him more and more, mate.”

“Ah. Fuck. I just don’t see what the problem is. Isak is normally a pretty chill guy. It’s just…

“Yeah?”

“Just… I’m probably not supposed to tell you this. Don’t spread it, ok?”

Inside the stall, Isak felt himself grow cold. He looked up at Even, and Even looked back. Not pitying as Isak had expected. More concerned, like he worried as much over what Magnus was going to say as what Isak did himself.

“As far as I know, and mind you, I don’t know much. It’s not like the guy is easy to read or anything, and it’s not as if we’re close, but as far as I know he’s having some problems at home. His parents just got divorced, or at least that’s what I heard Jonas and Eva talk about. I think they said he stayed behind to take care of his mum or something.”

“Ah, so when he needs to go home all the time…”

“...then it probably means that something is up, yeah.” Magnus finished.

“You sure he’s not just making up excuses?”

“No, seriously. From what Morten told me that Jonas had told Eva, she’s like completely dependent on him.”  

Magnus was right. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. Not now. Not ever, and definitely not in front of Even whose concerned look now definitely was starting to look a lot like pity.

“Shit, now you’re making me feel sorry for a guy I don’t even know”

“You do know him, though? He’s the one who scored us..”

“Shh” Mahdi interrupted. “Yeah, yeah. He did that. It's just tiring is all. Jonas is all ‘Isak this’ and ‘Isak that’. Did you know that we were supposed to work out after school, but Jonas was all ‘Isak never passes up a chance to go see a movie’, and here we are.”

“What, seriously?” Magnus laughed, by the sound of it while opening the door. “Do I have to start lifting weights for you to voluntarily hang out with me.”

“Maybe, yeah? If you want to, we can... ”

The door smacked shut, and Isak counted slowly to ten.

“Guess you aren’t that easy to read after all.” Even said. Smiling as if he was joking, but without a trace of laughter in his voice.

“Guess not.” Isak whispered in return. “And I guess there’s no chance that I would be able to convince you to forget what you just heard?”

“No chance. No way. But if you want to, we can talk of something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that I still wonder what I've done to make you _that_ embarassed to be seen in public with me.”

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t want them to pester you about the weed, I guess. I’m more in the mood for popcorn.”

As they got out of the stall Isak could physically feel the barrier between them grow thicker, as the fifteen centimeters of air became twenty, thirty, thirty five.

At least _one_ of his problems had been solved. Even could look all he liked, there was no visible sign of how aroused he had just been. As if it had been erased from his mind as well as from his body.

As per usual, that short moment of arousal had been choked by a pervasive feeling of shame. One that lingered. One that pushed all other feelings aside.

“Bet you’re glad I didn’t put onions on that sausage” said Even as they were finally back outside

“Eh. What? Onions?”

Even chuckled to himself, as if he had just said something amusing.

“Never mind. Just. Never mind.”

“So you’re still up for seeing the actual movie, or do you want to bail?”

Even talked faster than he had done before, a bit higher in pitch. Nervous, maybe. Judging by how he was fiddling around with his hands, this wasn’t Even giving Isak an out. It was Even wanting to get away from Isak’s inability to make his body behave when they were standing too close.

Or at least that was the worst case scenario. There were other options, and the only way to know for sure would be to stick this out to the end. Isak heard his voice sink to an almost unintelligible mumble as he spoke.  

“Well, you heard what they said. Isak never passes up an occasion to go see a movie...”

And fortunately, rather than insist they’d call it a night, Even laughed down at him.

“Good point.” Even chuckled. “Now would be a very bad time to ruin their impression of you.”

Isak rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in.”

“But hey - you should go incognito. In case they are still in there?”

“If it’s Captain America we’re seeing, we’re safe. It’s not Jonas’ thing as all. And inkognito, what the fuck?”

“Never hurts to be careful” Even laughed. “Let’s find you a cunning disguise. You never wear snapbacks, right?” He carefully placed his own snapback on Isak’s head, and took a step back. Looked at him, touched his lip with this thumb as if he was impersonating an art aficionado in the middle of admiring a painting.

“Perfect disguise. Wouldn’t recognise you if I tried.”

And when Isak cocked his eyebrow and shook his head at his theatrics, Even threw his hands up in surrender before he turned around and quickly followed the smell of popcorn.

As they rummaged through the kiosk, Even continued to look at Isak with a semi-amused expression. Every time he suggested another type of chocolate, another soda, it was with that same knowing smile. The smile that made eye contact impossible, the smile that made Isak blush and look away.

“What?” Isak eventually asked, as they were waiting in line to pay for all the sweets. “What are you looking at?”

And for a moment, Even was quiet. Smiled with what was very hard to not read as affection. Before he finally cupped Isak’s cheek with his hand, let his thumb brush his temple. Let out an almost inaudible sigh.

“My snapback. It looks good on you.”


	16. Saturday. 07. May 2016. 01:01

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night time.  
> Even isn’t around today, but he will be back soon.  
> The Isak of today is a bit more wordy than what he usually is. It just felt like he would be.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funfact: I lived in a (nice and furnished) basement room when I grew up. Because I have pretty bad arachnophobia I would never approach all the spiders in my room. Would never step on them. Rather I killed them by throwing books at them. Sometimes I shot them with my softgun (give me slack. I was fourteen. Softguns were still legal at the time, and anyway I don’t recommend it. Spider gunk everywhere.) The basement toilet was old, smelly, eternally dusty and home to plenty of spiders. And for some reason, I never killed those. I dreaded going in there at night. But I tried to learn how to cope with my own fear by watching the spider who lived behind one of the drains. As it grew, hunted, died and was replaced by another. I was never cured, though. Which means that I was unable to link to the snopes page Isak was reading, because there was a particularily revolting photo on there. If you want to read, you need to google it yourself.
> 
> Because my nerves are jittering atm, I feel like reminding you that I prefer criticism over silence.

A spider was making it’s way across the wall. Isak didn’t much like spiders, but instead of getting off his back to kill it, he just watched. Had been for a week. He knew where it lived, up in the darkness where the wall met the ceiling. When someone opened the door to the basement, it retracted into it’s little web-cave, so that only the tips of it’s legs were visible. It was still disgusting. Every movement of it’s legs. The way it switched between moving slowly and incredibly fast. Everything about it was repulsing. Still, it was here. It lived here. And maybe, given enough time, Isak would get used to it, get over his discomfort. Learn to cope.

Before sleeping, he would scrunch the opening of his sleeping bag and pull the flap over his head, leaving only a small opening to let air in. Jonas had always insisted that spiders like to crawl into your mouth when you sleep. Isak now knew they didn’t. He had googled it on the second night. He now knew that it was a myth. That it was just another thing on the list of stuff he had believed as a child because he hadn’t had any way to falsify it. But the thought still made him uneasy.

He’d wanted to send Jonas a message all night, but he hadn’t been able to find the words. Still didn’t.

 

_Jonas (23:12)_

_You: Fucker. Spiders don’t crawl into your mouth when you sleep._

It took a couple of minutes before he got a reply.

_Jonas: Good :)_

_You: Doing anything on the 17th?_

_Jonas: Idk. Want to stay clear of the city center at daytime. Beers in Frognerparken in the evening?_

_You: Good plan._

_You: Was the movie any good?_

_Jonas: Not really._

_Jonas: Magnus and Mahdi and Isabel are joining Frognerparken. Told them to bring friends._

Of course they were still together. Hanging out at Jonas’ place, maybe? Or eating a late night kebab somewhere. He and Jonas usually went to Burger King after the movies. He had voluntarily opted out in order to be with Even. But he wasn’t with Even. He was here, in the basement, watching a spider crawl across the wall. Battling the knowledge that something wasn’t right. That something was missing that had been there before.

On their way home, Even had never repeated that initial offer of grabbing something to eat together, and Isak hadn’t dared to suggest it. Unlike last week, Even hadn’t offered to walk him home either. They had headed straight for the 54 bus. Even had been lamenting that while the movie had indeed been bad, it hadn’t been bad enough to rant about. “Bad enough to bond over” had been his exact words. For most of the bus ride, Even had been lost in thoughts and Isak had run out of words.

Even hadn’t wanted to follow him home, and Isak had no home that he could invite him into.

A few weeks ago, the mattress under his back, this dusty storage room in this dark cellar had felt like a getaway, like one step towards independence. Right now, though, he just felt homeless. Like someone who couldn’t invite his friends over. Like every one of his interactions either had to happen in public, in cafés and on street corners where other people were watching - or he'd have to wait until someone else made the first move.

Like so many nights before, he passed the time reading Eskild’s old comics. The phantom. Donald Duck. Random issues from random years. Random decades, even. Yet he couldn’t chase the feeling - the knowledge - that he had fucked up.

Eventually, he had given up. He'd gotten up and out into the hallway. Had switched off the ligts. Had felt his way back to the storage rom through the now pitch black cellar. Only to realize that his phone had lit up. Everything was covered in a pale, blue light. Four unread messages. Five.

 

_Mum (00:48)_

_Mum: When jesus came to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him._

_Mum: And one of them was a woman who had been bleeding for TWELVE YEARS!_

_Mum:And she had been to so many doctors, and she had spent all of her money, but instead of getting better she grew worse._

_Mum: And she thought that if she could just touch Jesus’ cloak she would be free of her suffering, and when she touched him she stopped bleeding!!_

_Mum: But jesus could feel that POWER HAD GONE OUT FROM HIM._

Isak knew from experience that it wouldn’t do to text her. That she probably wouldn’t even see his messages, that she was probably typing with both thumbs, eyes fixed on the keyboard. So he dialled her number and called her up. She didn’t say hi, but on the other side of the line, he could hear her breathing.

“Mum. Are you alright?”

It was eerie hearing his own voice in the dark. It made the cellar seem bigger, emptier.

“No. Isak. Listen to me. You must listen.”

“Mum”

“The healing power is taken _from_ jesus.”

“Listen. Mum.”

“He gets rid of Legion by killing an _entire herd_ of pigs.”

She was crying now, her frantic voice made the darkness thicker. Made it harder to stay rational. Made it harder to stay calm and unafraid.   

“Some are _worthy_. Isak. He knows who are worthy of being healed.”

“Mum. Listen. Please listen to me.”

His voice was thicker. His throat was thicker. As if his body was telling him that he should cry.  

“Isak. What is given to some, is _taken_ from someone else.”

“Have you been taking your medication?”

“She had suffered for twelve years under different doctors, Isak. And instead of getting better she grew worse.”

And for the first time this week, being here rather than with her pained him. For the first time he just wished that he was there, by the kitchen table, making warm blackcurrant squash to calm her nerves. Would today have been one of the nights where that would have worked?

“Twelve years is a long time, mum. It’s a long time. She endured, right?”

“But Jesus felt the power _leave_ his body, Isak. And he didn’t _chose_ to heal her, she _took_ it from him.”

“Just. Mum. Stop. Just stop. If someone are almighty and all powerful, they don’t grow weaker even if that power is used. Even if it’s taken away. It’s sort of, part of the definition, isn’t it?”

Her sobs over the phone ceased for a moment, as if she was actually listening, so he continued to push more words in. Tried to distract her. Tried to see if she was sane enough to be distracted, or if she would loop back. Repeat sentences. He never knew beforehand if this would be a good time for repairs, or if this was the moment where everything would fall apart.

“That’s the whole definition of eternity, isn’t it? Like the universe for instance. It’s incomprehensibly big, right? A few centimetres give or take doesn’t make any difference.”

A small eheh-sound. She was listening. He had judged this to be a bad stint, but it couldn’t be. If it had been, she wouldn’t have been listening right now.

“It _does_ make a difference, though.”

“No mum. No. Not if he actually is almighty.”

An actual response. She had been listening. Small talk. This could be solved with small talk and distractions. This was his home turf. He had played this game more times than he could count.

“And besides. If someone took something from you, and you caught them in the act and you didn’t want them to have it. Then you would have taken it back, right? And he didn’t? So he sort of did give it to her, right? And who knows, maybe if she hadn’t seen all those doctors, she wouldn’t have lasted long enough to meet Jesus anyway.”

“But that’s not how the gospel goes, Isak.”

“Yeah, I know. I know.”

Of course he didn’t know.

“Maybe they left that part out? Or wait, there was something about money, right? She couldn’t afford her medical bills anymore? Anyway, why world Jesus punish someone for actually making an effort?”

“Wait!”

The sound of pages being turned quickly on the other side of the line. Then a sigh of relief, before she started reading to herself.

“Daughter, your _faith_ has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

As she was reading, her breath slowed down even more, and she repeated the phrase.  

“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

The third time around, she had almost switched to that slow voice she used to use when reading him bedtime stories, if more serious. Maybe to fit the subject matter.

“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.”

Then. After a moment of silence, she added one final sentence.

“Don’t be afraid. Just believe.”

“Do you feel better?” Isak asked.

He had lowered his voice, but it still sounded as if he was shouting out into the darkness.

“You’re not afraid?”

“Mm.”

“Is there someone you want me to call?“

For a while she said nothing, as if she was thinking.

“No. I have an appointment on Monday. It’s ok.”

“Good. Can you do something for me?”

“I can.”

“Can you just… go and check that all the slots in your pill organizer are empty?”

“I don’t need to do that, Isak. I already filled it before I went to bed. It’s ok. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can.” He said, as if to convince himself. “You don’t need me hanging around.”

“But will you come to church with me tomorrow?” she added after a short moment of silence. Her voice was hopeful. Almost as if she actually believed that last Sunday had been the start of something new.

“I’m sorry, Mum. It’s just. Lea has this football game, and I’ve promised to cheer her on. It’s kind of far away, and you know how early those games start.”

“Oh. Ok. It’s good that you are there. That you’re taking care of your sister.”

He managed to finish the conversation, finish the string of lies. Managed to swallow back the lump in his throat. Managed to convince himself that he didn’t need to go to her, that she would be alright. That she would talk it over with the priest in the morning. That it was she, and not him, who would give his mother the answers she needed.

But he didn’t manage to chase the feeling that the darkness was growing denser. That there was something threatening in the darkness and silence - even the drain pipes had stopped sounding. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone might have heard him speak. He hadn’t kept his voice down and for once it worried him that the door to Eskild’s small storage room couldn't be locked from the inside.

“Get your act together, Isak”, he muttered under his breath. “It’s just mum. No need to work yourself up over something that’s not out of the ordinary”.

What _was_ out of the ordinary, though, was the red snapback he was still wearing. It was Even-scented. Enough so that he didn’t have to take it off to feel it, a weak scent that was definitely there, but which constantly tried to slip away.

What was also out of the ordinary, was the messages Even had sent him while Isak was on the phone.

 

_Even (01:01)_

_Even: Sucks that the movie wasn’t better. I actually really liked the first captain america movie._

 

_(01:05)_

_Even: Ironically liked it I guess._

_Even: Old school hero’s tale_

 

_(01:10)_

_Even: Ah fuck it._

_Even: Here’s something I made back in first grade._

There was an attached vimeo link. “Hidden threaths”. School project.

 

_(01:11)_

_Even: It’s a bit embarassing, come to think of it._

_Even: You don’t have to watch it if you don’t want to._

Which is what made Isak tiptoe upstairs. Away from the oppressive darkness of the cellar. Pressing against Eskild’s front door he was trying to make the most out of the shoddy wifi connection.  

The reception wasn't good, but it was there, and soon Isak was putting everything he had into understanding Even’s old school project. Into understanding why he had sent him an odd, slapsticky stop-motion animation of a Captain America action figure kissing a weird cardboard cutout of Vladimir Putin, randomly interspersed with even more slapsticky videos of a naked barbie doll killing kittens with a sword shaped coctail stick. 

It was odd the first time he saw it. It was odder the next. Even’s voice sounded different when doing the voiceovers. Putin’s accented moans were funny, but when he tried to picture the Even he knew eagerly impersonating an angry barbie doll he just couldn’t. Still. It was made by  _him,_ and _he_ had sent it to Isak.

Then the door behind him opened, and a tired looking Eskild came out.

“Hey. Heard someone at the door and thought it might be Noora. How was the date?”

“No clue. We watched Captain America, but I wasn’t really able to follow the plot because I was so stressed out. And then he sent me this. And I just don’t get it.”

Eskild grabbed his earplugs and sank down beside Isak on the doormat.

“Lito is sleeping, so... Is it ok if we just stay out here?”

Isak nodded, then waited until Eskild had finished watching. Watched his reactions. The occasional smile.

“I just don’t get it. What does he mean by this?

“Are you seriously asking me this? What he means by sending you this odd Captain America slash fanfic crack of his?

“Yeah”

“Oh, I don’t know. Wild guess is that he’s trying to make that thick head of your accept that you’ve just been on a date.”

“No, but see. I read about this. That when people make memes about Putin being ... gay, that’s really homophobic, because it sort of claims that being gay is a bad thing? Also, they are killing kittens.”

“Eh Isak. I’ve shared those memes. I think they are funny. And I’ll have you know that I am not a homophobe. It’s just funny because Putin _himself_ probably finds it really annoying, what with his anti gay laws and all.”

“And the kittens?”

“I thought that was some kind of revenge-thing? Like… Barbie doesn’t like that Putin is stealing her man, so she takes it out on the kittens instead?”

“That makes absolutely no sense though.”

“Maybe Putin really likes kittens? Hitler was a dog person, you know.”

“I think Putin is a dog person too, actually. Jonas said so.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“For some reason I just feel like he’s mocking me.”

“I like his voice, though. It’s really... Calm and melodious, at least for a kitten killing barbie doll. What does he look like - do you have a photo?”

“No photo. Don’t even think he’s on facebook, so. No.”

“Here’s the plan. You send him a nice little selfie where you ask for an explanation of that crack video of his, and then he will send one in return?”

And after giving it some thought, that’s what Isak did. Took a selfie of his most confused expression, sent it over and added, just to make himself clear: “Wtf did I just watch?”

The reply came almost instantaneously.

“Still wearing my snapback, I see. I can come and fetch it tomorrow?”

Eskild made a mock-offended noise.

“No snapchat etiquette on that one. Ask for a selfie, then.”

Isak put the phone back into his pocket.

“Hells no. Not that desperate.”

“But hey. Better get to bed. Have you seen Noora, by the way? Think she was going to sort out some stuff with William, but she didn’t come home and she doesn’t pick up, so I’m a bit worried.”

“Probably just means they’ve sorted it out. I mean. She doesn’t usually call you if she stays out late, right? It’s not like you’re her dad or anything.”

“Nah, you’re right.”

Eskild got up and reached for the door.

“But Isak. He gave you his fucking snapback. Just. Stop being dense.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Chapter is already written” I told someone in the comment section. Seriously. This was going to just be a short interlude. A reminder of the existence of his mother. Of his living arrangements. Of which season 2 Friday this is. But then it grew and grew and this is what I ended up with. Ended up just posting it. If I didn't it would just have kept on growing. I just. Hope it works.


	17. Sunday. 08. May 2016. 13:31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning, oversleeping and an unexpected phonecall.
> 
> This is a short prelude to a chapter that I haven't finished yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started out as the opening of a chapter, but then I remembered that I’ve always written this fic as shorter scenes, not as full days. Therefore I’m splitting it up. Don’t know if the next update will cover the rest of the day or just the second third or fourth of it.

Isak awoke to the sound of his phone. Lound and insisting, piercing through layers of dreamless sleep. He could remember snoozing the alarm a few times, remembered noting that his bladder was aching, remembered thinking that he should get dressed before it got too bad. Then he had been awoken by another alarm, then yet another.

This, however, wasn’t the alarm. This was someone who was trying to reach him. It could be nothing. Could be Eskild or Jonas or a newspaper salesman. It could be his mother. Isak accepted the call just to silence it, then stared at the screen for a few seconds. Tried to focus on the name on the screen, only to se the letters blur into nothingness.

“Hello?”, said a voice on the other end of the line, but Isak didn’t answer. He just listened. Listened for footsteps, for doors being shut, for people moving through the basement, but there were none. Just the steady sound of the washing machines on the other side of the wall. The rustling from the pipes proved that the house was awake and that people were flushing and doing their dishes up in the apartments.

But there were nobody else in the basement. Although the light coming through the dirty windows was unusually bright, although it was probably past lunchtime, he was the only one in the room.

“Isak? Are you there?” the person on the other side of the line repeated, and this time Isak was finally able to focus his attention on the voice. This time he was able to give an answer, a plain “Hello” that made it all too clear how rusty and sleep-muddled his voice was. He cleared his throat, then had to stifle a yawn before trying to speak again.

“...hey.”  
“Shit. Are you sick?”  
And finally, finally he was able to recognize the voice on the other side of the line.  
“Even! Hey! Not sick, no. Just woke up is all. How are you?”

Before he could get an answer, someone opened a door somewhere in the basement, and Isak hastily pressed the phone against his chest so neither the sound nor the light would betray him. Sat perfectly still, breathing shallowly while the person on the other side of the thin wall took his sweet time rummaging around in one of the storage rooms, before finally disappearing out the door with something that made a lot of noise. A ladder, maybe.

If that meant that the caretaker was on duty, Isak needed to get out of there. 

“You still there?” he whispered into the receiver, but Even had already hung up on him,

While Isak was pulling on his jeans, the screen faded to black. Buttoning his jeans was painful. It felt like he he would spring a leak then and there. He left the top button open to ease the pressure, covered it with his teeshirt, tried to straighten his back enough to not look weird while leaving the building. 

Getting ready was painful. Bending over to pack his bag was was painful. How could he ever had taken the access to a functional toilet for granted?

The vibration from an incoming text message made him hunch over again.

 _Even (13:31)_  
_Even: Bad timing? Just wondered if you want to go swimming._  
_You: Sounds cold._

Once he was fully dressed. Jeans and a hoodie inside his jean jacket, walking as nonchalantly as possible in the direction of the door, he got yet another message.

 _Even (13:32)_  
_Even: Try to look out of the window._  
_Even: It’s practically summer._

And it was. The day was impossibly warm. He was out of the street before his eyes had managed to adjust to the sunlight. Before he’d even reached Hausmannsgate, his lower back had started to sweat. And every time his feet hit the ground, his bladder ached even more.

Half past one. The cafe down at Blå would probably be open. He could borrow the toilet. Buy a coffee, maybe study outdoors for once. Worst case scenario he’d have to settle for the river, and then, then he would call Even.

But of course Even called him first.

“Hey. Sorry about that. Connection was broken, I think.”  
“No worries. You in?”  
“Swimming? I don’t have any trunks… and I kind of left the house without a towel.”  
“I have some you can borrow. Not to force you into anything, if it’s too cold for you, just… our apartment is really hot right now, and I really want to get out of here.”  
“You want me to borrow your trunks? If you keep doing this, you won’t have any clothes left at the end of the month.” It was a forced joke. He knew it. “But sure. We can go swimming. Where do you want to meet?”  
“I’ll be on the 54-bus in… about 45 minutes, if that’s ok?”  
“In which direction?”  
“What?”  
“Sea or freshwater?”  
“Thought maybe we could take the boat out to Hovedøya? Like, make a day of it? Unless you have other plans,of course.”  
He had brought his backpack. His maths books and his calculator. All of a sudden they felt insignificant compared to the possibility of finally making things right again. Midterms be damned.  
“No plans. I’m all yours. Hovedøya sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the rest of the chapter will take a while to write. I’ve already written several pages, but I really really want it to be just right. Also I don’t have that much spare time. Writing on my phone whenever I have time. On busses and in bed and while having breakfast. You’ll get the next part as soon as it’s ready.
> 
> P.S. [Hovedøya](https://grensevokter.tumblr.com/post/166861505610/hoved%C3%B8ya)


	18. Sunday. 08. May 2016. (15:15)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one, just to prove that I haven't abandoned this. 
> 
> There are stuff going on in my life that demands a big part of my attention. This means that I have less time for writing than what I had before. But worry you not. This fic will still be completed, although it takes me more than a month to finish describing this Sunday.

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who just have to have a swim before the first of May.” Isak huffed, but Even just laughed.  
“Take it you’re not?”  
He pulled swimming trunks and towels out of his ridiculously over-sized backpack and threw them at Isak. “My dad is, actually, so I guess in a way I am. First time this year, though.”

The heat was less intense out on the island. The slight wind reminded them that although this day seemed like summer, the sea was still cold.

The ferry to Hovedøya had been almost full. Families with dogs and children and picnic baskets. On the beach, however, most of the others were boys their age. Some ran into the water and let out high pitched screams as they hit the deep. Others were returning to the shore with blue lips and chattering teeth, laughing and patting each other's backs.

“How cold is the water, anyway?” Isak asked hesitantly. When Even shrugged, as if the water temperature didn’t matter to him at all, a guy who was eagerly toweling off beside them rapidly filled them in.  
“Four degrees. Was a lot worse last week, though. Did you manage to swim before the first of May? Me and my mates...”  
“Alright” Isak interrupted just to shut him up. When he turned back towards Even, he couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “You guys have way too much to prove”.  
But Even didn’t answer. Rather his eyes flicked between Isak, the boy beside them and the sea while his fingers fiddled with the edge of his tee-shirt.

“Anyway.” Isak continued. “It feels a bit extreme to have the first bath of the year on a beach, though, right?. Aren’t you supposed to just jump in feet first and get it over and done with?”  
At this Even cocked his eyebrows, as if Isak had just said something amusing. His chest moved as if he was choking down laughter.  
“I guess? It’s shallow too - We’ll just have to run fast, right?”  
Even threw him a pair of trunks, placed the towels on top of his bag, out of the sand, but also out of reach, then let out a theatrically exaggerated exhale.

“No use delaying the inevitable.”  
“Pfft. Inevitable my ass.”  
“Look at you. You’re just trying to find a way out of this.”  
Even pulled his tee-shirt over his head, and looked at Isak as if he was questioning his courage. Kept the eye contact while he tossed the shirt into the sand. He shot his chin out. Daring. Challenging. “Didn’t take you for a coward, Valtersen.”

But rather than wait for a reaction from Isak, he turned around and started to remove his clothes. One fluid motion, leaving his socks inside his shoes and his boxers inside his jeans. As if this was just another day. As if he was hanging out with an old friend who had seen his naked body plenty of times before and had thought nothing of it.

But Isak wasn’t an old friend. And although he knew the drill. Though he knew that anyone who had even the most basic sense of beach etiquette would try to mirror Even, would look away, turn around, undress, try to match his friend’s pace, he was frozen to the spot.

Had he been here with Jonas and Magnus, Isak would have pulled his clothes off as fast as he could. He would by instinct have entered competition mode and been dead set on being the first one to reach the water. And more importantly, they would automatically have given each other space to get changed. They would most definitely _not_ have looked at each other before they were all wearing trunks.

But Isak’s eyes were following the clothes that were quickly leaving Evens body, drinking in every centimeter of freshly exposed skin. The shoulder blades that were moving quickly under skin that hadn’t been touched by sun for months. The straight line of his spine. The small white stretch marks across his lower back. Even’s lean, firm body was easy to look at. But it only lasted for a few seconds.

When Even turned to face Isak he seemed more hesitant. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was acutely aware of the contrast between his own state of undress and Isak, who was still sweating under his hoodie.  
“Were you serious? You’re not getting in?”

“What do you think of me? Of course I’ll be swimming!”  
Isak threw one last glance at the towels that were still resting on top of the backpack, still sorely out of reach. He turned away. Faced the sea. For a moment he waited for the sound of Even turning away to give him some privacy, but by the sound of this that never happened. There was only shallow breathing that almost, but not quite was drowned out by the sounds of laughter from the other side of the beach.

The knowledge that he was being watched made Isak fumble. He managed to pull off his hoodie and tee-shirt in one go, but when he started to unbutton his jeans, his hands were shaking and the fabric clung to his sweaty thighs.

He got there eventually, and there was a brief moment of silence. A few seconds of eye contact before they both looked down. Before Even bit his lip, and before Isak noticed how Even's chest was heaving, as if from exhaustion.

To beat the silence before it became awkward, Isak shouted "Last one in is a loser" and sprinted towards the sea.

**Author's Note:**

> I will love you forever if you leave comments and feedback.  
> [grensevokter.tumblr.com](https://grensevokter.tumblr.com/)


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